


Out of the Woods

by MacButton



Category: Fantasy - Fandom, King - Fandom, Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Achievement City, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Dom - Freeform, Dom/sub, Dominance, Domination, F/M, Kidnapping, King - Freeform, Knives, Mad King, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Orgasm, Reader Insert, Rough Sex, Sex, The Mad King - Freeform, Violence, au: king, delayed burn, direction, dominant ryan, mature - Freeform, reader - Freeform, ryan haywood - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2018-07-19 06:21:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 46
Words: 35,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7348654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MacButton/pseuds/MacButton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a fantasy work centered around a Dom/sub relationship between the Mad King Ryan and Reader.</p><p>Let me know what you think!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cabin in the Woods

The leaves beneath your boots made a satisfying crunch that echoed off of the canopy of the trees as you ran. Every now and then, you would step on a stray twig with a snap, but you wouldn’t pay it any mind.

You slowed to a walk to catch your breath and adjust your bag across your shoulder. This wasn’t the first time you ran away. In fact, it was becoming an increasingly frequent venture. King Ryan was making more and more trips to the outskirts of the kingdom to quiet his opposition; to set an example of them. The destruction was evident, so you tried your best to stay clear of it all. When you heard rumors of his arrival, you escaped to the small cabin in the trees.

The path was dangerously overgrown, but you knew your way around these woods as if the map was imprinted on your brain. When you heard the sounds of men, you stopped suddenly in your tracks.

You quickly crouched behind a nearby rock opposite the noise and held onto the bow across your back. Peeking over, you scanned the trees and watched the King’s guards struggling through the brush. They were talking amongst themselves, and they, apparently, hadn’t noticed you.

_What are they doing all the way out here?_

You loosened your hold on the weapon and waited for them to leave before standing up to continue your trek. You would have to set a few more traps and use caution when hunting in the area, now. King Ryan's grip was getting tighter with every passing day.

You journeyed for another mile, collecting berries from the flowering bushes as you passed for nourishment.

“My home in the woods is safe,” you assured yourself, “no one will come out this far.”

Of course they wouldn’t, if your traps didn’t catch any intruders off guard, the wildlife certainly would finish the job. You grazed your fingers across the small markings you had previously carved into the trees to direct you in case of poor weather and walked the perimeter of the trees as a security check. Everything seemed in place, so you made your way toward the cabin. The creek babbled close by, reminding you of your thirst, so you took a swig from your canteen.

You climbed the stairs of the small home to the landing, and, then, the ladder to the trap door. You nudged it open with your forearm, your hand on your dagger as you investigated the interior. Intruders or animals, you didn’t like any surprises. The coast was clear, so you continued inside, sealing the door behind you.

You immediately began sorting out the place and taking inventory. You still had enough food stored to last a week. Hopefully, the Mad King and his cronies would leave before then. You moved to the window on the west wall and creaked open the shutter.

A cold breeze swept through the house as you watched the sun begin to set, the last of its rays peeking through the trees. You sighed and breathed in the freedom. You were used to being on your own, used to looking after yourself, so the lone house in the woods was perfect symbolism.

In an effort to drive the thoughts aside, you made your way to the fireplace. Hastily cleaning it, you threw on a fresh log and kindling in its place. You struck the flint and steel together until it sparked and coaxed the fire to grow. Pouring half of your canteen in the teapot with some chamomile flowers, you brewed a rudimentary tea.

You let it heat while you sat in front of the crackling fire. You reached for your pack and dug through it, finding your warm blanket. You latched the trap door and laid down on the fur rug in front of the fireplace. Brushing the blanket across your lips, you started to drift to sleep. You were headed to the gardens again. Beautiful, lush, and serene, it was your own corner of paradise.

You snapped awake to the sounds of howling wolves. You crept across the floor toward the open window, slyly snatching your bow and quiver as you went by.

“They sound close,” you quietly said to yourself. Their growls and sneers directly underneath your home. You laced an arrow in your bow and knelt to get a better view out of the window.

It was barely dawn, but you could see the wolves had cornered a man. He was dressed in a hooded, black cloak, his scabbard across his waist and his sword dripping with blood. He had already killed two wolves, their lifeless bodies laid at his feet. The three that remained of the pack was snarling with anger, but rightly kept their distance, trying to get the best angle for attack.

He backed toward the house, trying his best not to be cornered and flanked by the beasts. You drew your arrow back, trained it on one of the wolves, and held your breath. You didn’t know the stranger, but you weren't going to let him die on your doorstep.

Suddenly, one of the dogs lunged at him, but he dodged out of the way and stabbed at the beast behind where it stood. From your crow’s nest, you released the arrow and watched it sail, hitting the third wolf in its neck. You quickly pulled another arrow from your collection and drew it back, targeting the beast behind him. You let go and watched the dog fall. He turned and saw the rest of the slain pack, his eyes recognizing the trajectory to train on the house.

You sunk below the ledge of the window and to the trap door. It was still secured shut.

The man’s voice boomed from below, “My gratitude for saving my life, stranger. Would you come down, so I can thank you properly?”

You paused and muddled over the invitation. This stranger gave you no reason to fear, and he had yet to try and burst through your door, so he must be a lost traveller. Still, his combat style was unique. He was clearly educated. Your hand fell to the dagger strapped to your leg, and you gulped passed the nervousness.

You unlocked the door and descended toward the man. He pulled down his hood as you stepped closer. You stared at him with a quizzical look. You knew this man, but from where, you couldn’t pin.

He sheathed his sword and took your fingers gingerly in his own, “My thanks warrior, I am indebted to you.”

You cocked your head to the side, “Do I know you?”

A devilish grin spread across his face, “I should hope so. I am your King.”


	2. Intruder

Dumbfounded, you stepped back until you hit the stairs’ railing. His smile didn’t falter, in fact, his demeanor suggested that your reaction was common.

“So you have heard of me,” he quipped over confidently.

“You…you’re….” you stuttered and stammered as you wrapped your head around the situation. The Mad King Ryan's reputation preceded him. He was known for being and cold, calculated, and dominant in his rule, yet here you were, two feet from his grasp. You clutched dagger at your thigh and drew it out with one swift motion.

His expression dropped, “I would put that away, if I were you, young warrior. You wouldn’t have a prayer fighting me.”

You sneered at his snide comment and hissed back, pointing the dagger in his direction, “I know who you are, and I know what you’ve done!”

The King laughed from deep within his belly, seemingly shaking the trees at their roots, “And you think you can stop me with that? Go on, try it.”

You were a practical person, for you knew you couldn’t win an unbalanced fight. Still, his words angered you, so you pounced on him with a scream. The King quickly countered the attack, twisting your arm behind you until the blade was forced from your hand, pinning you against a nearby tree.

He leaned in and breathed against your ear with a chuckle, “Maybe next time.”

He released you and you snapped to glare at at the arrogant bastard.

“Now,” he adjusted the sword on his waist and adopted a more royal posture, “I will rest in your cabin for the remainder of the night.” He marched up the stairs with a defiant stomp while you raced behind him.

“I’m sure there are other, more suitable, places for you to stay, your Highness,” you seethed at him. He reached the ladder and started to clumsily ascend to your home. You followed close behind, mostly annoyed at the intrusion. This was your peaceful escape and King Ryan was likely to bring trouble.

When you emerged through the door, he was already scrounging through your cupboards for food. He found some dried meat and began devouring it as he made himself comfortable in your chair.

You stood with your arms crossed in front of your frame, pouting and inquired, “How did you find my cabin?” Perhaps it was improper for you to talk out of turn, but, then again, you had attempted to assassinate the King, and he didn’t seem to mind. If he had wanted to kill you, he certainly would have, so you weren't situated keeping to formalities.

“I was on my way to the village when I saw the markings on the trees. I assume it was you who set those traps, as well.” He took another incisive bite of your food and bore his eyes into yours with an unwavering stare.

You stood firm and straightened your posture fixing your eyes to study his chiseled features, pausing for a moment before answering, “Of course. I was hoping they’d keep trespassers at bay.”

He chuckled, clearly amused by your defiance and turned his eyes to examine the rest of your home. “This is not your permanent residence, is it?” King Ryan inquired.

You looked around your cozy, but unkempt cottage and shook your head.

“What are you running from, warrior?” he probed as he finished the last bite and stood, moving to the washbasin behind you.

You eyed him up and down before answering honestly, “You.” 

He paid you no mind and removed his scabbard and cloak, tossing the effects on the chair where he had previously sat.

“And why would you run from your King?” He pulled the thin shirt over his head and let it slide out of his fingers to the floor.

Your eyes widened as you took in his frame. King Ryan was a handsome man, but his build had you stunned. You instantly recognized why you lost the fight. His arms flexed as he washed his torso, but you couldn’t look away. Your knees buckled, but you caught yourself before you stumbled to the floor, only a moment to recover your confidence before he turned to address you.

“I will stay in your bed,” in instructed, dryly.

You gestured toward your bed in the corner where you noticed your bow and quiver. Eyeing it for a moment, you glanced back at the King.

He noted your discovery and raised an eyebrow. “Round two?” he suggested.

A tingle surged through your legs and settled in your belly as he sauntered across the room toward you, half naked. You backed away instinctively until you bumped into the wall behind you, King Ryan's hand resting to trap you in. You breathed deeper, your heart thumping beyond control as you stared up at his face.

This was the Mad King Ryan, the man who dominated lands with the stomping of his foot, the man who silenced any adversary with the snap of his fingers; you should be repulsed by his presence. So why were you so aroused?

He raised his hand and rested it just under your chin. With his thumb, he brushed across your mouth softly to feel your breath stray from your lips. Just like that, he withdrew and made his way toward your bed, leaving you empty and cold.

“Good night, warrior,” he chimed, climbing under the blanket and shifting away from you. “Resist the urge to kill me.”

You settled yourself back on the rug in front of the dwindling fire, yet the heat inside of you still burned, warming you, frustrating you. With one final glance in the King’s direction, you reluctantly laid down and forced yourself into a restless night’s sleep.


	3. Kidnapped

King Ryan was already gone when you woke.

On the bedside table was a small, drawstring bag. You emptied the cloth bag, pouring its contents into your hands: gold coins. You deposited the coins back in the container, each with a satisfying clink, and returned it to the table.

The sun streamed through the open cabin window as a lurking hunger tugged at your stomach. You opened a cupboard and frowned. The gracious King had eaten most of your food, but at least he left you money for the trouble. You took some remaining fruit and nourished your starved body.

You finished your breakfast and prepared to check your traps, tugging your boots on and pulling your hair into a bun perched on the top of your head. You secured your bow around your frame, lodged the dagger in its sheath against your thigh, and made your way into the woods.

The wolf corpses were gone when you reached the bottom of the landing. It looked as though King Ryan may have moved them, and you were grateful he took care of the heavy lifting.

You shuffled quietly through the trees, following the invisible line of your boundary, stopping at each trap to inspect its contents. Small game was the only catch, but your grumbling belly would kindly accept what came through.

You cut the rope from the tree and replaced the loop with a fresh one from your pack, propping it up on sticks to catch another speeding rabbit. You repeated the action with the few traps you had, some less successful than others. You welcomed the birds’ summer songs and whistled your own tune to keep you company.

As you approached the boundary of your land, you paused at the edge of the creek. You stooped down, laying your bow and dinner next to you as you took your canteen and filled it to the brim with fresh water.

The sun was beaming directly above you now, and the air grew hot. Closing your eyes for a moment, your mind wandered to the previous night, and you turned it back and forth through your memory. Had the King really just happened upon your little home in the woods?

You glanced around you nervously; the woods seemed eerily quiet. It was odd not to hear the rustling of wildlife at this time of day. You gulped down the entire tumbler of water and filled it again, twisting the cap shut.

The crack of a twig and your hand drew back an arrow faster than the light shooting through the trees. A group of men on large horses were before you, one with his sword already drawn in protest to your distrust.

“Lower your weapon. We were not sent to harm you,” one of the men suddenly barked.

You narrowed your eyes, but didn’t relent, your arrow trained on the speaker as you prodded, “Sent? By whom?”

You studied the small insignia on their jackets and their horses’ bridles. They were high ranking royal guards.

_Oh no._

He grinned and straightened his posture, “King Ryan demands you accompany us back to the castle.”

You readjusted your grip on your bow, taken aback by the request. Why would the King ask you to the castle?

You mulled it through your thoughts briskly. If he wanted you dead, these men would have already finished the job. Yet, you couldn’t shake the sneaking curiosity of the situation.

“And if I refuse?” you asked, eyes fixed with laser-like focus on the leader of the group. You slowly lowered your bow and relaxed the arrow.

The group flashed one another an amused look and chuckled among themselves. The leader casually motioned his men in flanking directions with his head, slowly surrounding you and barring escape.

The leader smirked and replied coolly, “Then we get less…friendly.”

You glanced around and saw the men on their great steeds, hands on the base of their weapons. The leader turned his sword in his hand and sheathed it. 

His smile faded as he began, “You can either come with us willingly, or we can drag you to the castle by force. It’s your choice.” He laced his fingers together and rested them on the top of the saddle, patiently waiting for the correct response.

You tapped your bow with your finger and sighed, yielding to your fate.

“Fine,” you relented and secured your bow. One of the other men stopped you, relinquishing you of both your bow and quiver.

Of course.

You hooked your foot in the loop of the stirrup and hoisted yourself on the leader’s horse. He nudged the horse and it began a quickened pace, dodging fallen tree limbs it came across.

You clutched your pack tightly and looked up once more at the sun glittering through the trees, taking a deep breath and inhaling your faltering freedom for what you feared was the last time.


	4. A New Home

Your legs began to ache as you reached the castle boundary. You had been riding for, what you surmised to be a few hours, bouncing and lurching. You weren’t used to riding, and, if your pride hadn’t got the better of you, you would have begged to walk the rest of the way. 

The castle towers grew to a tremendous size as they drew closer. The leader slowed his horse to a trot when you reached the barbican and gate, speaking with the operator to gain his men entrance. You gulped when you finally passed through the monstrous gate, your knuckles white from clenching your pack tightly the entire journey. 

They took you to the front doors of the castle directly, where the guards dismounted their horses, the leader offering his hand to their prisoner. 

“Welcome to Castle York,” he quipped, overly bold. You scoffed and swung your leg around the opposite side, practically falling off of the beast. You nearly collapsed to the ground, but regained your stability and stood, brushing yourself of embarrassment. 

The leader made his way around the front of his stallion, petting it appreciatively. You crossed your arms and waited for something, anything to happen. Abruptly, he re-mounted his horse and steered it in the opposite direction, his men following close behind as he departed, calling to you. 

“Enjoy your new home.” 

“WHAT!?” You dropped your arms in astonishment and protested to an empty courtyard. You spent the next few minutes cursing under your breath, scouting your surroundings. 

The courtyard itself was a sight. The architecture seemed to demand reverence from its visitors, enveloping all who enter in a secure embrace. Your eyes trailed up the walls that transcended the castle. There were a few guards dressed in armor, keeping watchful eyes over King Ryan’s fortress, but they didn’t pay you any mind. 

You exhaled deeply and made your way further inward toward the center of the courtyard. Someone would have to happen upon you eventually, and when they did, you would wring their neck until you had answers. 

The courtyard was, to your surprise, decorated with flowered bushes, wooden benches, and even a small body of water with some aquatic creatures. You shifted your pack behind you to easily lean forward and graze your fingers across the flowers’ silken petals. 

It was uncanny to see such beauty in the castle of a mad King. King Ryan was a formidable man; you knew this from experience now. He was brazen and dominating, so why did he have such an exquisite Castle? 

Someone behind you made their presence known with distinct cough, making you, uncharacteristically, jump in response. The woman was an older and slender. Her hair was tied back into a tight bun, and her clothes so clean, you were positive the woman had never been outside of the castle walls. 

The stranger eyed you up and down with a judging grimace. You crossed your arms and shifted your weight to one leg. 

“Follow me,” she finally insisted. “You’d best not keep the King waiting.” 

Ever a defiant girl, you rolled your eyes and relented, accompanying the woman across the courtyard to the massive castle doors. You looked off into the distance at the glowing sun that set over the hills and fought back a yawn. Your stomach grumbled, your body begging for attention. 

You pushed the thought aside for the moment, as the thundering doors opened before you. The hall of Castle York took your breath away. Decorated in welcoming hues of blue, white, and gray, the fabric swept over the walls and gathered in the middle of the vaulted ceiling. 

Art and crests adorned the stone walls as you made your way down the corridor. The familiar sigil of the King graced every piece of furniture you passed. 

You eventually made your way to a bedroom with a large oak door. The woman swung it open and guided you in with a swift push. She stood in the doorway and directed your next move. 

“The King requests your presence for dinner. Here, you will find fresh clothes more suited for a King’s audience. And for God’s sake, please wash up.” 

She turned on her heel and left, slamming the door behind her with a loud thud. You made an annoyed “tsk” with your tongue against your teeth. The King seemed to be “requesting” your presence, yet here you were, practically kidnapped for a dinner date.

You sauntered across the room and stood in front of the mirror next to the washbasin. It was full length, an angle you hadn’t seen of yourself for quite a while. You studied your frame and gave yourself an appreciative nod, but frowned at the state of your clothes. 

The curvature of your body was hidden beneath your bloodied hunting clothes. It was a wonder the King’s guards had recognized you at all. You casually stripped off your outfit, standing stark naked in a strange bedroom that you weren’t positive was locked. 

You dipped your hands in the washbasin beside the mirror and found that the water was warm. You swirled the washcloth around a few times before gliding it over your skin. The water revealed your complexion in its proper ivory tone. You completed your bath and breathed a sigh of relief. 

The cut of the garment’s bust was lower than you’d normally sport. Obviously, the King had a say in your attire for this dinner. Still, you slipped the dress over your head and let it fall around you, securing it with a bow just under your chest. 

You stepped in front of the mirror to approve your outfit, gasping. 

You had never seen yourself in a gown before, and this particular piece left you breathless. The fabric hugged you so perfectly; it was as though it was poured around your frame. 

You turned your attention to the knotted mess on top of your head. Suddenly, it seemed improper to ignore the rest of your beautiful body. You tugged at the ribbon and let your hair fall around your shoulders. A small comb sat on the edge of the dresser, so you borrowed it to run it through your tousled locks. 

You parted your hair on the side and smoothed it down when there was a hurried knock on the wooden door. The woman appeared in the doorway again with a slightly more satisfied look on her face after noticing the change. 

“It is time to meet your King, young lady,” she gently spoke, turning to start down the hall. You quickly slipped on the shoes near the door and hoisted the dagger strapped to your leg higher, keeping it out of sight from wandering eyes.


	5. Dinner

The dining room was just as impressive as the rest of the castle. A broad, oak table commanded the center of the room, with a golden throne presiding over the head of it, keeping watchful eye on the rest of its guests. 

The older woman guided you to a seat near the center of the table, and you sat politely. The dinner guests were noble men and women, chatting and drinking without a care in the world. 

You scanned the throng of people and furrowed your brow. You had assumed, hoping, you would be alone with the King. 

You wanted answers. 

“His majesty, King Ryan!” 

The voice echoed throughout the dining room, reverberating off of the armor and shields that hung on the walls. At once, everyone stood, so you followed suit. You was shorter than many of the other guests, so you watched their eyes as they locked on the door behind the throne. 

King Ryan entered the hall with a boom as he opened the door. Each guest seemed to avert their eyes from his gaze, not wanting to bet on the mercy of their Mad King. 

When he finally appeared, you couldn’t look away. 

His robes were redder than your cheeks, his hair flawlessly combed to complement the bejeweled crown perched on top of his head. 

King Ryan looked so…handsome. 

He controlled the room with his determined stride, eyeing the table to make sure every guest was accounted for. His gaze fell to you and that devilish grin spread across his face once more. 

You felt your knees begin to shake, so you steadied yourself on the edge of the table. He examined your attire and praised it with an encouraging nod. 

King Ryan took a deep breath and bellowed, “Welcome! Enjoy the wine as much as you enjoy my company. Please.” He motioned for everyone to sit, and they did as they were instructed. 

You staggered behind the lot, falling to the cushioned chair with a soft thud, your eyes never leaving your King’s. He took a full drink of his goblet and began to eat, talking and laughing casually with the guests around him. 

You turned your focus back to the surrounding food. Your stomach rumbled at the sight of the feast, so you set aside formalities and ate. No one around you seemed to notice, however, they were too busy getting drunk and sneakily groping one another under the table. 

You took a swig of the wine. It was stronger than any other alcohol you had previously, so you gulped it down quickly and poured yourself another. 

The strange woman appeared behind you to whisper in your ear as you finished your second glass. 

“The King would like to see you now.” 

Your eyes darted to the head of the table. The throne was empty, and King Ryan was missing. You planted your feet on the floor and stood up, taking a moment to steady yourself. 

You could feel the alcohol taking its slight affect, but you focused as best as you could to follow the woman once more. 

The corridors became exponentially darker as you progressed through the castle. You turned a corner where only a few of the candelabras illuminated the way, and when the woman stopped short, you following her action. 

“The door at the end of the hall is your destination,” she revealed. 

You stared down the lengthy corridor that seemed to stretch on forever and fade into nothingness. You could likely get some much-needed answers, but you didn’t feel right about the circumstances. 

The woman spun on her heel and headed back to the party, leaving you alone in her wake. 

This wing of the castle seemed colder as you pressed forward. You scolded yourself for drinking so much alcohol too quickly. You needed to keep your wits about you, and now you worried your reaction time was sluggish. 

Gathering your nerve, you reached the door and paused to straighten your dress. You’d be fooling yourself if you said you weren’t nervous. Being in the company of King Ryan seemed to have an effect on you physically. 

You slowly raised your arm, curling your hand into a fist to knock on the door, but a deep voice from beyond interrupted you prematurely. 

“Come in.” 

You blinked, slowly turned the handle, and eased the door open with a creak. 

There sat your King, royal posture complete with a crown of power, alone at a small, round table in the middle of the spacious room. 

You scanned your surroundings quickly: a washbasin, a wardrobe, a fireplace, a luxurious fur rug, and a grand bed. 

You were in King Ryan’s bedchambers.


	6. A Brief Struggle

You and the King ultimately linked your gaze, and he greeted you with a welcoming smile. 

“Hello, Warrior.” 

The door collided with the wall as you stood in the doorway, waiting for permission to enter the private quarters of your King. 

“I said come in,” he continued firmly. 

You stepped forward, taking slow careful tiptoed movements, so he wouldn’t see you falter. You halted on the other side of the chair opposite King Ryan, as he stood to pull the chair out for you. 

You inhaled as he maneuvered passed you. It was an earthy and masculine aroma, with barely detectable hints of pine. You closed your eyes for a moment to bank the smell within your memory. 

He leaned forward and breathed in your ear a simple command, “Sit.” 

Without thinking, you moved to the front of the seat and obeyed. King Ryan returned to the opposite side of the table and settled in his chair, his eyes never leaving yours. 

“It’s good to see you again, Warrior,” he chimed with a satisfied grin. “I’m glad you accepted my invitation.” 

You snapped out of your trance and furrowed your brow in resentment. 

“Invitation!?” you vented, “You’ve kidnapped me! What is this about?” 

The King chuckled softly, amused as he watched you writhe in anger. 

“I’ve asked you here, so I can get to know my savior better,” he calmly replied, taking a sip from the cup that sat before him, “With the hopes you might enjoy getting to know me, as well.”

“Get to know you!?” you spat, “Why on Earth would I want to get to know the most vile King!?” 

He gingerly placed the cup back on the table and wiped his lips of the alcohol while you barked in protest. King Ryan’s fist came down against the table with a powerful _bang._

__The noise startled you, and you clutched your chest with one hand, your dagger with the other._ _

____

____

“ENOUGH!” King Ryan’s voice thundered through the gradually shrinking room around you. “You WILL stay, and you WILL be mine,” he commanded. 

This was all you needed to hear. 

He was planning on keeping you prisoner, and you certainly weren't going to let it come to pass. 

You withdrew your dagger and lunged across the table toward the King in a surprise attack. He was ready and met you halfway, both of you fighting for grip of the knife. 

He wrenched his fingers around your wrist and forced you on your back along the cold woodwork of the table. 

He pinned your arm to the side and struggled, “Do not fight me, Warrior. We can make this…much less painful for you if you comply with your King.” 

His words were staggered as you bucked underneath him, your knee meeting the inside of his thigh. It was just enough for you to slip out, letting go of the blade to make a break for the door. 

King Ryan hissed through the pain and sprang off of the broad table, shoving it behind him, and making it skid across the stone floor. 

You reached the door and twisted the handle, but his hand above your head slammed the door closed before you could escape. He pressed you against the wood with firm control, his knee resting against your right leg as he enfolded you in his direction, his broad forearm wrapping around your shoulders to keep your still. You wrestled against his grip, getting further tangled in him, your back flush against his broad chest. 

The King brought his free hand holding your dagger under your skirt, up the length of your thigh slowly. 

“It seems as though you might like a little pain,” he suggested. 

You recoiled at the touch of the sharpened, cold metal against your sensitive skin and dug your fingernails into his arm, trying your best to get him to release. 

He stabbed the knife into the wood of the door, and flattened you against it. 

“Would you like a little pain from me? Your Mad King?” he offered, breathing into your ear, dragging his lips across the back of your exposed neck. 

It had been so long since you felt the touch of a man so close. You prided yourself of the control you kept over your life - over yourself - but King Ryan was making that authority waiver. 

You closed your eyes for a moment, allowing yourself to get lost in his touch. It was unfaltering, yet sensitive. He was controlling you delicately with the purposeful direction of his body. Little white dots began to sparkle under your lids as you felt the bulge from under his trousers grow against you, and you couldn’t hold back any longer: you moaned.

You could feel King Ryan grin against your shoulder, and he approved your reaction with a sharp bite. You inhaled through the pain and moved your hips against the front of him suggestively. 

He let go of your arms as his hands made quick work of your skirt, pulling it up to glide his fingers across your behind and squeeze it possessively. You pressed your chest against the door with a gasp and whined as he teased his fingers up and down your thigh. 

“Do you want to please your King, Warrior? Do you want to be mine?” his voice was thick with lust, and his fingers handled you more roughly. 

Your face turned red, and you nodded, resting your head against the wood. 

You weren't entirely honest. 

You certainly didn’t want to give up your freedom, but the warmth between your legs was making decisions, now. 

You grasped your hands behind your back, hoping to come in contact with his body. You needed to touch him; to level the playing field. 

“Hands on the door,” he sharply ordered, pulling the ribbon that held up your undergarments. 

You did as you were told, pressing your palms flat on the barrier. Your obedience was instinctive, an impulse to his royal power. You weren't sure why you submitted; it certainly wasn’t your personality to give in without a fight, but King Ryan’s hands, his voice, his domination felt…right.

Suddenly, he withdrew his fingers and body from your frame, leaving you, once again, cold and alone. You turned to him, stunned and whined. 

He chuckled and pocketed your panties, “Perhaps next time, Warrior.” 

King Ryan ushered you aside, freeing the door as he held your chin with this thumb and forefinger. He brushed his lips against yours in a taunting caress and promptly spun on his heel to vanish down the dark hall. 

Your chest was heaving. 

You stood there like a fool while you wrapped your head around what just happened. 

Your face was red hot, the warmth between your legs dripping with desire. 

As you came down, your exhilaration turned to annoyance. King Ryan was arrogant, egotistical, and selfish. You made your way to the full length mirror in the corner of the room and straightened yourself out. Ryan was exactly what you expected: he manipulating enough to get what he wanted without thought for your needs. 

You smoothed your dress and hair and made your way down the hall back to the banquet room. 

_Truthfully,_ you thought to yourself, _should I be surprised?_

_____ _

_____ _

He had, after all, barged into your home, took your food, and sent men to kidnap your the very next day. 

You turned the corner, slinking into the room unnoticed by the guests still immersed in their revelry. 

King Ryan seemed comfortable, seated in his throne at the head of the table, savoring the power he dangled in front of his minions. You glared at him as you poured yourself a full glass of wine. 

_Enjoy your reign for now, King Ryan,_ you conspired, to yourself, _because it won't last for long._


	7. Self Release

Your bedroom was in the same wing of the castle as King Ryan’s, but, thankfully, down a different corridor. He was lucky, really; if you saw the King again tonight, you would have tried to throttle him. 

The room was bright, airy and had a number of windows - a surprise for someone who was taken prisoner. Perhaps it was the King’s way of cultivating Stockholm Syndrome in his guests. Regardless, the moment you were inside, you began assessing your escape routes. 

Option 1: the door. 

It was simple and uninspired, but, sometimes, dim-witted guards forget to lock the door. You twisted the handle, found it sealed, and sighed. No luck. 

Option 2: the window. 

You made your way to the open window as a cool breeze passed through. It was dark now, but you could see your room was only two or three stories high. You could fasten bed sheets together and easily repel down the side of the wall. 

You passed the idea over before carrying it out: it was dark, you barely knew the area, Ryan’s men were likely guarding the castle grounds, and you had no weapon. If you stayed a night or two, you could gain the trust of your captor and possibly find a better method of escape. 

Satisfied with your decision, you analyzed the rest of your prison cell. 

The wardrobe was full of clothes. You sorted through them, expecting the lot to be revealing gowns, but were stunned to find numerous pants, shirts, and boots, like your customary hunting gear, made with more durable materials. 

You found a suitable garment for bed and took off your own clothes to slip it on. It was made of silk, something your skin had never touched before, and it hugged your frame comfortably. 

You yawned when you caught sight of the bed. You hadn’t realized how tired you were, until you thought about the length of your day. 

Being kidnapped can exhaust a girl, so you turned down the comforter and climbed under the white bed sheets, the blanket engulfing you in a serene embrace. 

You stared at the ceiling and ran the blanket through your fingers, wondering why King Ryan brought your here.   
Did he truly want to get to know you, or were you only meant to satisfy him? If so, why hadn’t he taken you when he had you alone? 

Your body shuddered when you remembered their earlier encounter: his chest on your back, his deep voice in your ear, his hands groping your legs. 

You ran your fingers across your excited chest and let out an unintentional moan. You recalled how King Ryan left you unsatisfied, so you’d have to take care of yourself now. 

Fingers trailing down your body, you dipped them underneath your nightgown. 

You were already wet, a byproduct of fantasizing about Ryan. You found your clit and began to casually stimulate yourself, getting your body increasingly sensitive with every circle. 

Your mind wandered to King Ryan’s hands as they explored you in your fantasy. 

His hand settled on your thigh, gripping you tightly. Ryan leaned over you and whispered in your ear, giving your firm orders regarding your pleasure. He told you that he was in control of your body, and he was going to be the one to make your orgasm. 

Your moans became more frequent and your breathing sporadic as you dragged your fingers lower. 

You hovered your digits around your entrance and bit your lip. Your fantasy King approved, so you slid a finger inside with a gasp and back up to your clit, repeating the action until you felt yourself close. 

You arched your back and caved, releasing your pent up orgasm in quick waves. Your moan echoing off of the castle walls, you were unaware of any prying ears. 

You slowed your breathing and wrenched your hand away as you came down quickly. All at once, you were cold and exhausted, so you curled up with the blanket and came down from your high. 

Your body shook slightly from the hasty release, as you focused on the sounds outside. The chirping of the crickets mingled with the loving sway of the wind through the trees, sending you to your special spot in the gardens.


	8. Morning Story

The door opened swiftly, but you didn’t budge. It was early, your body told you that much. 

“Wake up,” the woman calmly ordered. “Your King is waiting for you at breakfast. Get dressed and head straight to the dining hall.” 

She promptly turned and stood at the door, but you didn’t move, staying burrowed in your serenity. 

“If you are not present in fifteen minutes, I’m sure the King will come searching,” she finished, closing the door behind her. 

Reluctantly, you eased the covers off of your warm body, the slight chill of the morning air waking you. You walked to the washbasin, splashed some water on your face, and pressed your hair in place. A small bottle of perfume sat next to the washbasin. You brought the nozzle to your nose and inhaled: rose, jasmine, and a hint of vanilla. It was lovely, so you sprayed a small dab on your neck and wrist. 

The sun shone through the window, so you chose a light and airy dress, the hem falling just below your knee. You slipped on flats and made you way down the corridor, passing through a small courtyard that opened to a grassy area. You smiled and took the detour to the edge of the path, removing your shoes before stepping on the lawn. It was warm, the sun peeking over the castle wall to dry the grass of the morning dew. 

You made your way further in, toward a grown oak tree, taking a deep breath to appreciate the beautiful morning. Here, within the castle walls, were the gardens from your dreams. You slumped against the tree and sat on the soft ground, crossing your legs in front. The birds chirped in their nests above, so you watched them flit and sing to one another for a few moments, treasuring the natural beauty.

“Good morning, Warrior.” 

The sudden voice startled you, and you turned immediately to address it. It was King Ryan, sitting on the opposite side of the tree. 

You stood, preparing yourself for retribution or at least a stern lecture. 

“Such a glorious morning, isn’t it?” he inquired, eyeing you up and down. 

You paused, stunned he was having a seemingly normal conversation with you. 

“Yes,” you hesitated, “it is a beautiful morning.” 

He took notice of your dress, eyeing it up and down, “That is one of my favourites. I am glad you chose it.” 

You didn’t take your eyes off of his and, instead, spotted a leather bound book in his hands. 

“What is that?” you asked. 

He closed the book and turned it over in his hands. “A bit of reading. A morning like this deserves attention, don’t you agree?” Curious. You were unaware he had interests that didn’t involve wielding a sword.

You took a small step forward, feeling bold, “Would you read some to me?” 

He smiled and motioned for you to sit next to him. You relaxed, crossing your legs once again, as he read you a tale of two lovers on the coast of an alluring island. White sands, warm waves lapping at the shore, and a bond between two people so strong, no one dared to challenge it.

You smiled and closed your eyes, getting lost in his voice painting the serene picture. 

A guardsman appeared next to you, informing King Ryan of his daily royal charges. His people needed an audience, and you would have to wait for the story’s end. 

King Ryan's lips drew together tightly, and you could see the worry across his forehead. 

He rose from his comfortable spot, looking down on you almost lovingly. 

“I will continue tomorrow, Warrior. Duty calls.” 

You managed a slight smile as he turned and strode out of the gardens, leaving you to wonder about the sensitive side of the infamous Mad King Ryan.


	9. Escape Plan

The perimeter wasn’t as heavily guarded as you expected. You couldn't forget your primary objective of escape. The few guards that did notice your presence threw you dismissive looks and went on with their patrols. 

You traversed around the boundary of your prison searching for a weak point. The walled in area was tremendous. It extended for, what you estimated to be, at least five miles; much further than one could see with the naked eye. Your strategy for escape would take more planning than you had previously anticipated. 

You walked toward the rear of the castle bounds and found its defense even more barren. You came upon the ruins of a guard tower, the remains swirling toward the sky in a rocky defiance to its grim fate. You peered around the grasslands, but only the end of the summer’s breeze followed, so you snuck inside the abandoned tower. 

The stairs were generally intact, the only a few gaps from the remnants of an apparent battle years ago. You ascended the tower and inspected the opposite side. 

Freedom.

The woods were thicker on this side; its floor littered with stray logs and other brush. You quickly scanned the woods’ horizon. There wasn't a direct path out, but as long as you veered South, you could find your way back home. Then, you turned your attention to squint over the edge of the turret. It was two story drop. Manageable, but not in your current state. 

You frowned and pulled at the slightly dirty gown, examining your equally filthy feet. There was no possibility of escaping in such attire, so you'd require a wardrobe adjustment before your trek. Your stomach coincidentally grumbled out of protest, as well. 

"I should have a full meal and a small stash to travel," you thought to yourself. 

You sighed and crept back down the broken tower stairs. Your plot of liberation brewed, but its execution would require more strategy.


	10. A New Plan

As you returned to the edge of the gardens, you collected your shoes on the way inside, slipping them back on. You were warm, parched, and hungry from your walk around the grounds, so your stomach steered you toward the kitchen. You snuck passed servants until you reached the spruce cupboards. They nearly touched the ceiling and were filled with just as much food. 

You gawked at the array. King Ryan had every type of fruit you could ever imagine, meats from animals you hadn’t attempted to hunt, and exotic chocolates you had only dreamed of. 

You found a small tray on one of the counters nearby and filled it with an assortment of foods. Lifting yourself on the counter, you perched yourself comfortably and devoured your earned meal. 

This was quite a cushy prison, you had to admit. The food was plentiful and the grounds were comforting even if the company was not. Now all you had to do was try and avoid King Ryan until you gathered the tools for your escape. 

You finished your food and hopped off of the counter, brushing the crumbs from your hands and skirt. You drank a mug of water as you passed the basin and continued down the halls of the castle, hoping to find your bearings. 

“I will not let my Kingdom fall because of the incompetency of my officers!” 

You stopped in your tracks at the voice bellowing down the hall. It was King Ryan, and he did not sound pleased. 

You crept toward the voice, hiding in the vaulted doorways as you got closer. 

“My Lord, it… it wasn’t our fault…” the young officer’s excuse trailed off with a squeak under the power of the Mad King. 

You snooped through the slightly ajar door until your eye found the men in question. They were unarmored, unmarked militia men. The guards that had kidnapped you hovered behind them, the accused kneeling in front of the King. 

“Please… Please, your Highness…” the leader of the group begged, “have mercy.” 

King Ryan strode over, unsheathing his glimmering sword and pinning it against the man’s throat. 

“You slayed countless men, women, and children of my Kingdom… MY KINGDOM!” King Ryan's voice was a roar through the halls and the anger spread through him, and his grip tightened around the hilt of his sword. 

“You may not be leading this resistance, but know this,” the King strode around the shaking man to stand behind him, the King’s blade now flattened against his throat, making it ooze with the red liquid of his short life. “I will silence every last one of you myself.” 

King Ryan dragged the sword across the man's neck with a swift slice. He fell to the ground, writhing and struggling to breathe as the King towered over his opposition with aggressive authority. Ryan's men made quick work of the remaining rebels, letting blood gush on the already blood-stained stone floor.

You held your hand over your mouth to keep from making a noise. King Ryan was swift to execute these men, it was only a matter of time until he would snap and you would suffer the same fate. 

This was the Mad King Ryan you were warned about, and now you were stuck in the same castle as he. 

You slunk down the hall and around the corner to your room. You rested against the door as you realized your legs were rattling. You sank to the floor to steady your nerves. 

You couldn’t wait any longer. You were going to escape this nightmare tonight.


	11. On the Run

The rest of your evening was a blur. Thankfully, King Ryan didn’t request your presence for dinner tonight, so you were spared the struggle of putting on a brave face for the murderer. After you ate a large dinner, you brought some extra food and tucked it away in your pack. Luckily, the hunting garb provided to you in your room fit nicely, closing the boots up with a satisfying zip. 

Your dagger was your only weapon, so you made certain it was snug around your thigh and hidden under your coat. You gathered your hair into a loose ponytail and pulled the hood of your cloak over her head. 

The bed sheets cascaded down the tower wall as you lowered yourself out of the window like a fantasy princess of folklore. You wrapped the sheet around your wrist and flexed your arms, descending the few stories until you reached solid ground. 

There was a slight chill in the air, but you moved right along, hugging the castle wall until its edge. You made your way toward the East wall where the exit you discovered hours earlier awaited you. 

Lonely owls hooted in the trees, and you crossed your fingers, praying they wouldn’t reveal your location. The number of guards trickled to nothing as you neared the abandoned turret. 

You darted for the tower, breaking into a full sprint. You let your desire for freedom get the better of you, but it was so close, you couldn’t wait. 

Away from this place, away from the rampage of the Mad King Ryan were the only motivations you needed as you ascended the stairs and hooked your foot over the wall on a protruding stone. 

You jumped to the ground and rested for a hair’s breadth before you raced into the dark and ominous woods, not glancing behind you to notice the figure poised against the other side.


	12. A Necessary Evil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Witness the last few series from King Ryan's point of view.

\- the previous day - 

King Ryan briskly rounded the corner to his private meeting quarters without missing a step. Without a doubt, he enjoyed being King. The power alone was enough to motivate him to stay. But, there was always the obligation to make an example of those who betrayed him. He didn’t like to murder, per se; it was a necessary evil in order to keep loyalty in his Kingdom. But in cases such as the present, well, King Ryan didn’t mind wiping out the vile creatures before him. 

Five militia men he contracted to keep watch over the villages on the outskirts of the Kingdom kneeled before him, already bloodied and beaten into submission by his royal guards, but the worst was yet to come. King Ryan towered over their leader with a grim look. 

“How many?” he began. 

The leader looked at the floor before him and stayed silent. 

“HOW MANY DID YOU KILL?!” King Ryan blared, his anger echoing off of the castle walls. 

The man quaked in fear, “We… aren’t sure.” 

The King's face twisted, “You aren’t sure how many villagers you left to die?” He paced around the room and continued, “How many of the Legion were there?” 

The man stuttered, “One… one hundred and fifty…” 

King Ryan closed his hands into tight fists, letting loose the rage with a swift punch to the man’s left cheek. One of his guards lifted him back to his knees as he recoiled in pain. 

“You let one hundred and fifty men ruthlessly murder your fellow countrymen while you sat and watched?” King Ryan spat. “I suppose you were promised money, clemency, immunity for your treason.” 

The man nodded, blood freely flowing from his mouth. 

The King stopped before him and lifted his chin to meet his Lord’s eyes, “I will not let my Kingdom fall because of the incompetency of my officers!” 

The leader’s eyes widened and begged, “Please… Please, your Highness, have mercy!” 

King Ryan held the hilt of his sword and pulled it from its sheath and took a careful breath, letting it out in a thin line of air. He knew what he had to do. With every passing day, the Legion drew closer, and there could be no tolerance for traitors in his court. 

King Ryan pointed the sword at the man’s exposed throat, “You slayed countless men, women, and children of my Kingdom… MY KINGDOM!” His face was red with rage at the thought of so many of his citizens falling because of the greed of so few. “You may not be leading this resistance, but know this,” the King moved around the man to flatten the blade against his neck and press it deeper, letting a narrow line of blood trickle for his sword to taste, “I will silence every last one of you myself.”

With that, King Ryan jerked his arm with a deliberate swipe, successfully ending the conspirator’s life, nodding to his guards to do the same with the others. Five bodies lay before him, a triumph over his enemy now, but the war was far from over.


	13. Drawing Plans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Witness the last few series from King Ryan's point of view.

King Ryan burst through his bedroom door with a resounding boom. He still fumed and tossed his blood stained sword in the corner of the room, the iron clattering against the stone foot of the fireplace. He paced back and forth to calm his nerves before collapsing in the armchair near the window. 

Every day he received word of another destroyed village by the hand of the Legion. From the neighboring country, this band of marauders had no political gain, their only aspiration to kill and pillage. His head in his hands, he pressed his palms into his eyes, obliterating the scene from the forefront of his thoughts. He couldn’t lay in wait for much longer. He’d have to gather his most skilled warriors and attack the head of the beast. 

He let out an exasperated sigh and drew his hands together in a clasp when there was a knock at his door. 

“Come in,” he breathed. 

It was the castle caretaker. Her thin frame barely appearing through the doorway, he strained to focus on her, “What is it?” 

She stared at the floor, her hands resting on her lap softly, “Sire, I am here to ask what time you would like your company for dinner.”

He blinked and ran his hand through his tousled hair. He was physically and emotionally wrecked and the last thing he wanted was to try and entertain a guest, even this particular guest. 

He waved his hand dismissively, “No tea tonight. I need rest.” 

The caretaker bowed her head and left with a curtsey “Yes, my Lord.” 

King Ryan leaned back in his chair and rested his head on his fist, thinking of his guest. His mind wandered to the moment they shared today. It was the happiest he had been in a while. Her company brought brightness to his otherwise dull day, even if she was still skeptical of his intentions. He drummed his fingers rhythmically on the arm of his chair and gazed out his window. The air was getting colder as the night crept closer. 

Another knock at his door startled him. This knock was hastier, firmer, and more declaratory. A deep voice from beyond the door sought entrance. 

“Your Highness, I request a brief audience.” 

It was one of his royal guards, he recognized the voice. 

“Enter,” the King finally granted, turning to watch his guard enter the room, closing the door behind him. The man stood at attention for a brief moment and then relaxed, talking more casually now they were in secret. 

The King stayed slouched in his chair, yielding to his fatigue, “What is it Captain, I don’t have time for strategy discussion tonight. Perhaps in the morning.” 

The Captain shifted his weight from one leg to the other in a nervous spasm. “Sir, it’s about the girl.” 

King Ryan immediately straightened in his seat, his heartbeat’s pace quickening. 

“What about her?” his eyes a keeping a steely scrutiny of his guard’s face. 

“We think she may have found a way out of the castle grounds,” he responded, matter-of-factly, “we will keep watch over her tonight and ensure she is not successful.” 

“No,” King Ryan rose from his chair and tapped his lip thoughtfully before putting it behind his back to join the other. “If she is going to be my property, I must deal with her myself.” 

He nodded toward the Captain dismissively, “that will be all.” The Captain turned swiftly and strode out of the room. 

King Ryan peered out the window at the expanse of land enclosed by his fortress walls and chuckled to himself.

“Go ahead, Warrior, let’s see how far you’ll get.”


	14. Pursuit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Witness the last few series from King Ryan's point of view.

Hidden in a darkened corner of the castle wall, King Ryan waited for the girl to emerge. He didn’t want to scare, but he couldn’t just let her leave. The route back to the woods she hailed from was treacherous in length and danger. Furthermore, with the lurking instability of the Kingdom’s political landscape, she wouldn’t last very long on her own. 

Not to mention the surge of desire he felt for the girl, and that she clearly felt for him, he couldn’t let her leave without bringing it to fruition. Yet, he had the aching feeling that this was more than a lustful conquest. 

He adjusted the hood of his cloak as time ticked away. 

“She said she was mine. I saw her submit,” he deliberated, turning a knife between his fingers. “Perhaps she won’t leave,” he pondered, sheathing the weapon. 

Suddenly, a dark figure slinked passed him along the castle wall. King Ryan melted into the shadows and watched the girl sprint to the far East boundary. 

The Mad King's face twisted into an angry sneer as he followed her, slowing to rest just South of the derelict towers. He watched her hastily climb the ruins and hop over the wall to the opposite side, free from the castle’s enclosure. 

He grew more outraged with every parting step she took as he pursued her, taking his time to balance on the protruding stone before dropping just as she did, venturing into the black forest like a predator stalking his prey.


	15. Caught

Hunched over, you panted for a brief moment before taking a drink from your canteen. 

You were free. 

Still, the forest was pitch black, and you had a long trek in front of you. You pocketed the canteen and strolled confidently through the brush, dodging trees in a zig-zagged path. 

The wind whistled through the trees, and you strained your ears to hear the owls, but they weren’t there. You listened for other sounds the forest had to offer. Still, you heard nothing. 

No, not nothing. Footsteps. 

You heard footsteps. 

You dashed away from the encroaching steps, darting passed the fallen logs and thick foliage. You lost your bearings, the obscurity and fear getting the better of you until you slammed into a tree face first, tumbling to the bed of leaves beneath your boots. 

You rubbed your face, trying to soothe the pain, when the tree took a purposeful step toward you. You gulped, too stunned to move as the object enveloped you in an invisible force field. The wind picked up, moving the branches aside, allowing the moon to peek further in, revealing your pursuer. 

“Hello, Warrior,” King Ryan sneered, tapping the blade of his knife. “Did you miss me?”


	16. Struggle

Your mouth agape; your body shaking. You were sweating, yet your body frozen, either from the frigidity of the wind or the gripping fear of being ambushed by the Mad King in a dark wood. Regardless, an icy chill inched down your spine when he spoke. 

“I asked you a question, Warrior,” he reaffirmed. He crouched down to your level, holding your chin in his thumb and forefinger, punctuating each word with a tap from his blade on your knee, “Did. You. Miss. Me?” 

Your throat was dry; you couldn’t muster any words, only a lone squeak. 

How did he know you had run off? King Ryan's expression stiffened as he grabbed you under your bicep, yanking you to your feet to face him. You closed your eyes momentarily when you bumped against his chest, catching a hint of his scent. 

“Warrior,” Ryan continued sternly, his index finger back under your chin to guide your eyes to his. “You said you’d be mine. Were you lying?” 

Your cheeks flushed as you recalled the scene: his body against yours, his words in your ear, his hands controlling you with ease. It all seemed extraordinarily gratifying to be under his control. You glanced down at his hunting knife, secured in his grip. 

No. 

You shook off the figures of arousal and righted yourself in his presence. King Ryan was not sweet or sensitive. There would be no compromising with a demented King. He would kill you if you didn’t take the reigns. 

A quick glance behind the King revealed a fallen tree. You braced yourself and realized you had one chance to catch him off guard. 

King Ryan took a breath, so you placed both hands on his chest, shoving him backward with every bit of strength you had. He toppled over the log, sending him head over heels as you dove for his discarded knife. 

The King quickly recovered and swooped for the same prize, climbing on your back to wrestle you of control. You reached behind you and yanked at the King’s cloak, tearing it from his tired body. He was sloppy tonight, so you twisted around in his grip to face him.

You lodged your knee between you two and pried yourself out of his clutch, your closed fist connecting with his right cheek. Surprised, he relented and you scrambled to your feet, holding the knife over King Ryan. 

He panted, his shirt torn, face bruised, and hair a mess, waiting for your next move. 

Your grasp of the broad knife tightened as you jostled his words through your brain. You had never been left high and dry, and you certainly had never wanted a man as you lusted for the King. Every time you were around King Ryan, you felt the desire to listen to him, watch his expressions, to… touch him. 

You silently cursed yourself for wanting him, your heart thumping so loud its beat resounding out of your ears. Your mind had already succumbed to him; your defenses fell to his dominating and, now, your body was next. 

You knew there was no going back, so you might as well enjoy the rollercoaster you were about to board.


	17. A New Dawn

You threw the knife with such force, it lodged upright in the ground some distance away. King Ryan lay on the floor of the woods and watched the knife sail into the blackness. You lunged at him, crashing your lips against his with pent up sexual frustration. The force of the kiss itself nearly sent you toppling over. He tasted like the sweetest dessert, and you wanted more. You dove your tongue in his mouth to brush against his in a greedy show of desire.

King Ryan returned the fervor moaning and growling into the kiss. He slowly regained his bearings and spread his hands roughly up your torso. He thrust his hips to meet yours and used the momentum to sit up. Your legs secured around him, there was no way you were going to let him scamper off like he had done previously. However, you could do nothing to stop him from breaking the kiss, so you evolved, working your lips down his jaw line and to his neck. 

“Ah, so you did miss your King,” he chimed, a hint of selfish satisfaction in his voice. 

You inadvertently nodded. You had to stop doing that, you weren't sure where this blind agreeing was coming from, but his voice sent your stomach tumbling over like waves crashing against the shore. You hated that he was boorish, overbearing, and a power hungry King, yet that was exactly why you were drawn to him. 

Your head swam as your body naturally explored him. The broad trim of his shoulders, up to his hair, and back down his chiseled arms where his hands held you securely. Ryan leaned you back slightly in his palms to expose your neck and chest, unbuttoning your coat for easier access. 

He worked his lips down, across your sensitive skin, biting slightly with need. Your chest heaved, and you gripped his shoulders to keep from falling, those little white stars glittering your sight. 

“Warrior,” King Ryan breathed as he studied your chest with precision, “Do you like it when I control you?” 

You opened your eyes, staring up through the canopy of the trees and into the night sky. You had always been in control; it was your natural state, a consequence of traveling alone for so long. Companionship had forever escaped you. You melded into the shadows perfectly and no one had bothered to grab you from the darkness. 

That is, until you met King Ryan. 

His attitude made you crazed, starving for attention when he left you that night, and you needed him. 

You nodded again. 

His arms flexed as he raised you back up to look him in the eyes, “Do you want to be mine? Say it.” His sight narrowed, and he glared at you, “I want to hear your answer.”

You stared at him, unblinking. You weren't afraid of the feeling anymore. You knew what you were getting into in forming a relationship with the King. 

A newly found boldness flowed through you, and you leaned forward and pressed your lips against his, tugging his bottom lip gently between your teeth. 

“Yes, King Ryan. Make me yours.”


	18. Delayed Gratification

The King grinned at your tenacity and pulled your hands together in prayer between the both of you. He pulled the leather belt from his waist and wrapped it around your wrists, securing it under itself to ensure it would hold. 

You bit your lip, and he took this as an approving sign, so he sealed his ownership with a deep kiss before the more severe punishments came about. 

King Ryan raised himself to his knees, still handling you securely in his grip. You wrapped your legs around his waist, as you made your way back to the castle wall, following its length to the East gate. The King strolled passed the guards, refusing to break eye contact with you to greet the men. 

You were locked, both dedicated to this new adventure. 

Finally, he brought you to his bedroom, pinning you against the back of the door. Your coat hung freely open, your thin shirt the only barrier between your naked body and the King’s hungry mouth. You shivered as he continued his rampage, biting and kissing across every inch of exposed flesh. 

King Ryan's hand clamped on your shirt, and he tore it straight off of your body. You blushed and hid your face behind your bindings, but the King raised your arms above your head. 

“Ah, ah, ah,” he corrected, “I want to admire the beauty you’ve been hiding.” 

The King pressed his hips forward so his knees rested against the door, propping you up so both of his hands could explore. He palmed your curves, ghosting his fingers over your excited nipples, eliciting a drawn moan. 

King Ryan smirked and worked his hands lower. 

“What else have you been keeping from your King?” he thought out loud. 

He hooked his fingers in the waistband of your trousers and wrested them from your thighs, taking the time to brace you in one hand and remove one leg before switching to repeat the process on the other side. He tossed the rumpled garment along with your discarded boots to join their ruined mate, not taking his eyes off of your partially naked frame. 

King Ryan marveled at your body, holding back his own hunger to show you what domination was about. 

He brought a single finger up your inner thigh, passed your stomach, over your breasts, to rest under your chin, 

“You are stunning, Warrior,” he appraised, “but that coat needs to come off.” 

He transported you delicately to his bed, easing you comfortably on the soft blanket. You stretched across the length of the bed, holding your clasped hands above your head in a show for your King. 

King Ryan gulped passed his eagerness and removed his cloak casually, resting it on the chair behind him. 

He wasn’t being humorous. You truly were breathtaking, and he knew he was going to take his time with his prized Warrior.


	19. The First Taste

King Ryan's boots were the next article to come off as he watched you inch toward the edge of the bed, whining for more attention. 

“Patience, Warrior, patience,” the King cooed, tugging his shirt over his head and dropping it to the floor. 

Your hand dipped lower when you saw his build, sneaking your way up your thigh to your own pleasure. King Ryan quickly descended and snatched your hands away. 

“No,” he declared, firmly, “you are not allowed to touch. From here moving forward, any pleasure you feel will be from my hands. Understood?” 

His eyes didn’t falter, while yours darted back and forth between the pair of your Dominant’s. You nodded meekly, savoring the somersaulting feeling in your stomach as King Ryan's lips brushed against yours. 

“Say it,” he asserted. 

You bit your lip. 

“Yes, King Ryan.”

Satisfied, the King ushered you further back on the bed, climbing up to join your comfort. He freed your hands from the belt to briefly remove your coat, shoving it off the side of the bed. He raised your arms above your head once more, and secured them to the railing of the headboard with the same belt. 

King Ryan kneeled above his Warrior, running his digit down your writhing body. 

“Where should I start, Warrior?” he wondered, pulling slightly at your nipple and brushing it with his thumb to soothe the pain. 

You inhaled through your teeth, the slightest touch from the King fuel for the building fire. 

You bucked your hips suggestively, hoping your King would take the not-so-subtle-hint. 

“There?” he dragged his finger down near your pussy and off the side of your hip. You nodded fervently and whined. King Ryan was making you work for his touch and now you were getting impatient. 

He bent over your frame and sprinkled your skin with kisses across your shoulders and down your chest. He paused to kiss around your breasts, faintly swiping his tongue over your excited nipples. The King wrapped his lips around the soft skin and sucked roughly, gifting his Warrior with a sizable purple mark to remember him by. 

You pulled at the belt holding you back. He had fastened it too solidly for you to wretch out of it, so you whined louder, your voice the only power you had left. 

King Ryan smirked, and continued his exploration lower, skimming across your stomach to rest his lips just above the area that needed spotlighting. His kisses were deeper, more focused. You could tell he was doing his best to hold back, as he gripped your thighs in his palms. 

“Ryan!” you barked out of turn. 

His tongue was swirling around your delicate skin, turning your brain in circles and making you a raving lunatic for more of your King’s attention. 

The King sat up straight, flattening his hands up your sides and to your chest, fidgeting with your breasts. 

“Manners, Warrior,” he corrected. “Ask properly.” 

You moaned under his twisting and pleaded with your eyes, 

“Please, King Ryan… please!” 

That’s all the King needed to hear. In a second’s time, his mouth shot to your pussy, and he tasted you with the tip of his tongue. Your head fell back, and you spouted a loud moan. 

“You’re louder than when you’re by yourself, Warrior,” he uttered into your pussy. “Do you like it when I take you with my tongue?” 

You struggled to nod through your pleasure as your hips bucked toward his talented mouth. 

“Warrior,” King Ryan warned, circling his index finger around your entrance. “I will not ask again. Answer me.” 

He abruptly dipped his finger inside your pussy, removing it and stealing some of your wetness to taste. 

You pulled at your bindings again to their edge.

“Yes, Ryan!” 

King Ryan smiled and bit the inside of your thigh, making you recoil in pain. He joined another finger with the leader and, again, slid the pair into you slowly. He watched his digits work you over, alternating between twisting and opening them, seeing how your body reacted to each movement. 

Your moans and whines became more frequent as you came closer to your release. It wasn’t taking you long to reach the end, but King Ryan wasn’t going to let you climax as swiftly as you were building. 

King Ryan gently removed his fingers and coated his cock with your wetness on the inside of his trousers. He pulled the blocking fabric away and played with himself in front of you. 

You edged toward him as far as the ties would allow. He was bigger than you had fantasied and now that he was inches away, you needed to know how he felt. 

You clasped your hands open and closed them rhythmically with a whine. King Ryan moved closer and bent forward to kiss you. You greedily took his mouth, sliding your tongue to meet his, ignoring the taste of yourself on his lips. 

He held his cock away from your hungry pussy, so you motioned your hips toward the solution. The King backed away, running his hand down your body and holding your hip securely. 

His eyes were dark, you knew he was having a hard time holding back, but he was going to show you who was King. 

His eyes sat on yours, unmoving, as he christened your relationship with a namesake so natural. 

“Kitten,” he branded with a ravenous growl. “Beg.” 

His commands were short and direct, as his animalistic instincts took over. Your chest rose and fell steadily like a wave as you moaned for your King. 

“Please, my King,” you begged. “Please fuck me!”


	20. The Payoff

There was desperation in your voice. You had never had desire for sex like you felt for King Ryan, and you needed to feel him inside of you. 

The King rested his length on your wetness, and you let out a unified moan. He was close, so you raised your hips to ease him lower. A sharp smack against the side of your leg let you know to stop immediately. 

You inhaled and verbally protested at the pain under your breath. You let your waist rest against the bed with impatience. It was difficult to relent and let another have full control, but it made the pleasure build that much faster. 

King Ryan eased his cock back and forth across your clit, collecting your juices on himself, purposefully taking his time to enjoy his power over your squirming body. 

“Again,” he ordered, easing the tip of his cock just outside of your entrance. 

You took a deep breath and pleaded, “Please, fuck me!” 

The King slid the beginning of his length into you with a low moan as you joined your bodies together slowly. You arched your back and took more of him in. Again, a disapproving slap met your leg in the same place as before, the redness amplified by his hand staying in position.

You moaned this time, making King Ryan smirk. 

“So, my Kitten does like a little pain from her King.” 

His hips twitched as he inserted his length in further. Your eyes rolled back as he buried himself inside of you. You could feel every inch of his manhood against the sensitive walls of your pussy, and you knew you wouldn’t last long. 

When he was nearly in you completely, King Ryan stopped. You dragged your eyes open to see him leaning over, his face directly in front of yours, eyes black with lust. 

“Listen carefully,” he warned. “Since this is our first time together, I will let you orgasm whenever your body is ready. But...” 

He put a finger on your lips, guiding his hand down your jaw to hold your chin. He crashed his lips against yours, “Next time, you will release only when I permit it, understood?” 

His eyes were firm as he pulled himself out of you and eased his length back in gradually. A stray moan escaped at the delicate feeling as you nodded. 

With that affirmation, Ryan smiled and slammed his hips against yours, burying himself to the hilt inside of his submissive. You let out twin screams of pleasure, as you moved your bodies in unison. Your hips were fluid, taking his length in with each thrust. King Ryan's eyes rolled at your movements, and you could tell he wasn’t going to last either. 

Your kisses became sloppier as the sweat poured from your bodies. You closed your eyes, as the little glimmers of stars began to creep into your peripheral vision. Your moans sufficed as notice, but you couldn’t stop yourself from letting your Dominant know of your impending release. 

“Ryan...” you barely breathed. 

King Ryan gripped the back of your head, jerking it slightly to make you open your eyes. 

He was staring at you, his mouth open, lips slightly brushing against yours. 

“Come for me,” he said. If you weren't so far gone in your own pleasure, you would have noticed the longing in your King’s voice. 

With that command, your pussy closed around his length and you came. Your chest arched, and you moaned into his mouth, your pussy dripping orgasm around him as your legs shook. 

You wrapped your legs around King Ryan's waist, still making love to him. You knew he was close, so you held on to the tightness as he pressed against the ceiling of your hypersensitive insides. You watched his eyes flutter, and you bit his lip. 

“Come inside of me, my King,” you seethed. 

With a final thrust, King Ryan emptied himself inside of you completely, solidifying your bond as Dominant and Submissive. His cock pulsed, slowing until he had nothing left to give. Your pussy fought against the intrusion, and you couldn’t help yourself but orgasm again, the mixed climaxes dripping from the fullness you felt. 

In between heaving breaths, King Ryan pressed his lips against yours in a deep kiss, which you returned with renewed enthusiasm. You were his now; you felt it in his actions, and your interest piqued when you thought of what that entailed. 

The room was unusually silent as you both came down from the dopamine-induced high. He still towered over you and held your hips in a, now aching, grip. 

You adjusted your wrists in the bindings. Your arms were now so heavy and holding them up like this was getting painful. The King reached above you without a word and loosened the ties, giving your body much-needed relief. 

He laid next to you and silently pulled you against his warm body, making your fluid-devoid body shiver. King Ryan reached for the fur blanket at the end of the bed, and covered you both. 

His fingers danced up your leg, past your torso, and over your chest until they met your chin. He held you firmly, turned your head toward his eyes, and steadily spoke.

“You are mine now, Warrior,” he circled his finger down your chest leisurely. “And this is your only warning: Do not run off without me again, or you will be punished. Got it?” 

You bit your lip. Now that you came down from the excitement, his stern words were concerning. 

Punishment? Wasn’t binding you considered punishment? 

You rubbed your wrists and nodded, but remembered his preference and softly breathed, “Yes, my King.” 

Satisfied, King Ryan rested his head against the pillow and wrapped his arm around your waist in a loving embrace. He kissed the back of your ear and quickly fell asleep. 

Your mind was too tired to wonder, so you followed his calming breaths and drifted in the King’s bed.


	21. Morning

You woke the next morning, wrapped in the fur blanket, just as he left you. The bed was empty, but the room was still warm from the fire. Someone had put a on a fresh log, not too long ago. 

You held the blanket around your naked frame and sat up in bed, scanning the room. The bindings that were secured to the bed behind you were gone; no evidence of the previous night remained. Your torn garment on the floor was missing and, in its place, a brand new, white robe remained. 

You lifted the small piece of parchment on top to read:

_“My apologies for not being next to you when you wake, Warrior. Please take this to replace your ruined outfit.”_

You glided your fingers over the delicate material with a smile. The fabric was soft. Softer than any material you had ever felt. 

You gently picked up the garment and swooped it around your body, fastening it around your waist. It hugged you perfectly. 

You gingerly placed your feet on the floor and walked over to the wash basin across the room. Your eyes widened when you approached eyesight of the small mirror that sat atop it. 

Your neck and shoulders were littered with red marks made by the King. You rubbed your wrists where a faint signature of the restraint remained. He had claimed you, and now you were his. 

You began the careful work of washing up. The soft cloth still seemed too harsh, but you pressed on, easing over each impression. It wasn’t the worst pain you had ever felt, but it certainly was a surprise. King Ryan was rougher than you had expected. Perhaps you could talk to him if you had another session; you were going to have to work hard to hide these bruises. 

You finished your regimen with a spritz of the same perfume, rubbing your red wrists together to spread it on your arms and chest before tying the robe again. You brushed through your hair with the small comb and fiddled with your part, inspecting it closely. 

“It suits you,” King Ryan appeared behind you suddenly, casually resting against the door frame. 

Startled, you turned to face him, your cozy robe now seemed too revealing, so you crossed your arms in front of your chest. He sauntered across the room to you, almost too comfortable in your semi-nude presence. But, you were still shy around your new lover, and you couldn’t forget who he was. 

“Good morning, my Lord,” you meekly greeted, averting your eyes from his gaze. 

The King stopped just before you and placed his finger under your chin, gently guiding your eyes to meet his. His smile was warm, almost caring. 

He trailed his fingers down your neck, to your collarbone, where he made contact with one of the painful marks, eliciting a sharp inhale. You stepped away instinctively, cradling the mark with your cupped hand. King Ryan looked down and noticed the impressions on your neck, chest, and wrists and reached for your fingers. 

He held your hand delicately and apologized, “I’m sorry, Warrior. It looks as though my desire got the better of me.” 

He grazed his thumb across your wrist gently. You looked up at him, a combination of annoyance and arousal as you remembered how he handled you. The daylight clearing the cloud of lust.

“Don’t let it happen again,” you warned without filter. 

The King’s grin fell, and he took a half step closer, leaning forward so his lips brushed against yours. 

“Obey me, and our lovemaking will be less painful, Kitten,” he flared. 

You narrowed your eyes at him. A spark of lightning rushed through your body and settled in your stomach. Regardless of whether you were truly going to be the King’s property, you weren't going to give in easily, and you were sure he knew that fact, too. 

King Ryan stepped away and motioned to the wardrobe in the corner. 

“Get changed and have something to eat,” he instructed making his way toward the door. “If you are too weak, I will have it brought to you.” 

You crossed your arms with pride washing over, “I’ll be fine on my own.” 

The King glanced over his shoulder and smirked, “I know you will, Warrior.” 

He pulled the handle of the door behind him, “But now that you are mine, you need to be ready for more.”


	22. Infamous Talents

The kitchen was easily your favorite room in the castle. You perched yourself comfortably on the counter, swinging your legs, munching on the breads and fruits, and gulping water until you were satisfied. 

You took some sweets and wandered around the castle, finding your way to the gardens again. You searched the opposite side of the tree, this time, to make sure the King wasn’t lurking. Relieved you were alone, you walked the grounds, hugging the walls of the castle this time to inspect it closely. 

You finished the handful of sweets and brushed your hands down the length of your pants. 

You were bored. 

You were used to having something to do while living on your own: hunting, cooking, washing, or even training. Here, everything was provided to you like you were some kept pet. 

You came to the outskirts of the castle’s compound, just before the vast expanse of land. It was where the royal horses and other farm animals were kept. The horses grazed in a large, fenced in area, so you approached the fence and greeted a nearby foal. 

A large wooden structure sat opposite the stable. A metal door guarded the building, not a customary design for animal storage. 

Curious, you headed over to the front and peeked through the small window beside it. It was dark inside, but you saw the unmistakable shine of an iron sword. You struggled to raise the wooden plank that laid across the metal door, but somehow managed it. The heavy metal of the door’s hinges screeched when you opened it, the sun streaming into the sizable room. 

Three walls were lined with stacks of iron swords of differing lengths, weights, and styles. Your eyes widened when you caught glimpse of the variety of longbow and recurve bows at the King’s disposal. 

You spotted the collection of quivers with an array of arrows. You picked up a particularly heavy arrow and studied it. Its tip was made of a light, but sharp metal. The edges leading to the tip had been frayed, so it could not be removed from its victim without severe injury or, more likely, death. 

It was a gruesome picture in your mind, so you sat the weapon back in its place and continued your inspection. King Ryan had hundreds of armaments in this building, including ones you didn’t recognize, but for what purpose? Castle defense? The ordnance was too diverse, too numerous to be for peace of mind. This building was enough to sustain a war. 

Your thoughts were interrupted when the leader of the King’s royal guard cleared his throat in the doorway. Startled, you turned and saw the brute. 

“Oh. It’s you,” you remarked. 

He smiled and adjusted his stance, “Yes, I suppose I can’t blame you for hating me, considering what I did,” he began. 

You crossed your arms and raised an eyebrow at the intruder, “You took my bow and kidnapped me. Go to hell.” He was one of those men who blindly carried whatever his leader ordered. 

He took one step into the building, “Yes, but I needed to take precautions in collecting you. King Ryan told us what you were capable of with that bow of yours.” 

He smiled again, his grin transforming his face. He was a dangerously handsome man to be a slave of the King. 

“Where did you learn to shoot like that?” he inquired. 

You relaxed your suspicious attitude slightly, “You learn what you need to in order to survive.” 

He cocked his head to the side disapprovingly, “I hardly believe you garnered skills like that from simple hunting.” 

You turned back toward the weapons and fiddled with the bowstrings, muttering under your breath, “That’s not exactly what I meant…” 

He strode toward you, “My apologies, Warrior. Your reputation proceeds you and my curiosity got the better of me.” 

He stretched out a hand, a peace offering from the enemy side. “Ramsey,” he introduced with a smile. 

You blandly shook it in return, “Charmed, I’m sure.” You weren't about to trust a perfect stranger working for your kidnapper. 

His eyes glittered, scanning you up and down. He stepped away and toward the door and continued, “I hope the King has plans for you, Warrior. It would be a shame to waste such a good talent.” 

You blushed, but pushed the embarrassment aside and gave him a meek smile. It was the first conversation you had with another person who wasn’t simply barking orders at you and it felt nearly normal. 

You gradually made your way back to the castle to your room, reveling in the exchange. The caretaker was waiting for you at the bedroom door. She stood straight as a board, her eyes a blank stare, making you wonder if the woman even required sleep or simply ran on the energy of managing the King’s castle. 

“The King requests your presence for a private dinner. Please dress appropriately and be ready in a half an hour.” 

You sighed and nodded, pushing passed the woman and into the room. Was this going to be your life? Orders bellowed at you without a hint of regard for your desires. 

You stripped your clothes and put on the new gown. If you were going to stay here, you were going to have to prove to the King that you weren't a girl to be toyed with. You tied your hair back, sprayed on a hint of perfume, and, to finish, strapped your dagger to your thigh. 

Tonight, you were going to use some of your infamous talents.


	23. Dinner Entertainment

King Ryan was already sat on his throne waiting for you when you walked into the dining hall. The table that overwhelmed the room was set only for two, hundreds of candles adorning the rest of the length. You gasped when you saw the arrangement, for it was certainly impressive, and found your place adjacent to the King. 

When you arrived at your seat, the King stood up and pulled out your chair himself. You looked down at your feet with a smile and slid into the chair, resting your hands in your lap until King Ryan took his seat to speak. 

“Why all of the candles, my Lord?” You inquired.

He ignored your question and tracked his eyes up and down your torso. 

“You look breathtaking tonight, Warrior. That gown…” his voice trailed off as he lifted his cup, taking a gulp of the wine. He sat his empty glass down and filled it to the brim with more alcohol. 

You followed suit and took a careful drink of the red liquid. It was a different bottle than the wine from your first night in the castle. Its aftertaste was sweeter and more manageable for an inexperienced palette like yours. 

King Ryan wasted no time and started to eat the food in front of him. He seemed to be inhaling it, so you took slow bites and changed your approach to start a conversation. 

“So,” you began, setting your fork on the plate after a few bites, “what’s the special occasion?” 

King Ryan set his utensils down, as well, and wiped his mouth with his napkin, “What do you mean?”

You motioned to the candles, the wine, and the feast before them, “Why all of this?” 

The King smiled and took another gulp of wine, “It’s for you,” he said with a smile. “I thought my Kitten would like some attention.” 

You played with your fingers under the table, so he wouldn’t see you fidget.

_Kitten._

That title sent a pang of arousal through your body when it came from his lips. 

However, your eyes scanned the room as you were lost in thought. You were much more than simply a sexual object, and King Ryan had yet to show interest in you outside of that venture. 

You gulped passed a bump of anxiety and spoke out of turn. 

“Who were those men you executed?” 

The question was seemingly out of nowhere, but if you were going to stay here, you needed to show the King you weren't going to be a piece of property, oblivious to your surroundings. 

King Ryan stopped mid-sip of his drink and sat the cup on the table between you gently. 

“Excuse me?” he asked, shocked. 

More confident that you had caught him off guard, you pressed, “Why did you murder that group of men. Right here in the castle. What was their crime?” 

His face grew stern, and his eyes trained on yours, not faltering for a second, “Kitten, were you eavesdropping on my business?” 

You didn’t look away, instead you continued, “You didn’t think I would notice multiple murders in the backyard?” 

King Ryan straightened in his chair, his look was grim, “Be careful, Warrior, you’re treading in an area you know nothing about.” 

You narrowed your eyes and didn’t relent, “All you know how to do is kill! You have no compassion and cannot be reasoned with! You couldn’t even keep me here without the use of force!” 

This was all King Ryan needed to be provoked. 

“ENOUGH!” 

He slammed his fist against the broad table, making the dishes clatter in response. 

“I can understand your inability to comprehend the current situation in my Kingdom. I could see how you would think that my campaigns were bloody,” he stood up from his chair, staying in one spot to raise his voice, “But I will NOT be lied to, Warrior!” 

You took a deep breath to keep your composure and lifted your skirt, silently dragging out the dagger from its sheath and unwrapping the leather strap as he continued. 

“I am sick of having this conversation, Warrior. When will you realize that all of this is because YOU wanted it? YOU begged me to take you, YOU promised to be mine, and you WILL be obedient to your King!” 

You were furious. You didn’t like being talked to like property, especially when toting an important subject. Now was your chance to show the mighty King Ryan who he was trying to control. 

You leapt from the table and lunged at him, your dagger drawn. You caught him enough off guard to send him toppling backward over his throne, the two of you tumbling head over heels as you wrestled to straddle the Mad King. 

You managed to get the higher ground, sitting on his torso to force his arms above his head. You quickly bound his hands with the leather strap to the base of his throne. It took great force to move the chair at all, but the King noticed the restraint and thrashed, pulling it closer with apparent ease.

His eyes were dark, just like his tone, “Kitten…” he warned, “untie me now, or you will have some harsh consequences.” 

You shook your head and rested your blade on the floor next to him, still in your hand. You bent forward and glared into his eyes.

“Save your threats. I want answers,” you demanded. 

The King raised an eyebrow and shifted underneath you, he looked almost comfortable in this position. 

“Why did you kill those men?” you asked again, propping yourself over the King by your fists on either side of him. 

He smiled and conceded, “Because they deserved it.” 

You rolled your eyes, “What did they do to deserve death?” 

King Ryan chuckled and wrested his hands in the bindings. “Ah, ah, ah. Don’t you think it’s only fair you answer a question of mine now?” he bargained. 

You shifted your eyes between his, trying to predict his next move, but he was steadfast in his gaze. 

“Fine,” you conceded and sat back on him. 

He pulled the heavy throne closer, so he could sit up further and address you directly, “Why are you so interested in my affairs?” 

You mulled the question over, formulating a response to the ridiculous question. But before you could answer, he interrupted. 

“You know what? That question was quite rhetorical; I can answer it myself,” he voiced, shrugging you off so you slid lower on his torso. 

“I think you are so concerned with what I do because you want to be involved with me. You love the thought of belonging to me, but you don’t want to be romantically involved with a mad King.” 

His eyes were nearly black as they bore into yours. 

“You want me to include you in what goes on in my Kingdom, but that’s not how ownership works, Kitten. If you want to be mine, you need to learn to let me control you.” 

Suddenly, the room felt dry. You gulped, trying desperately to regain command of the situation, but your body couldn’t find the confidence to argue with King Ryan. 

He was right. 

You wanted him; you wanted this. The power King Ryan had over you was confusing, yet it felt incredibly natural. When his eyes were on you, they never faltered. You felt as though your chest was caving in as King Ryan sat up without issue, looking down at you. 

“Warrior,” he breathed, caring. His eyes barely softened, and you nodded, knowing what he was asking of you. A smile spread across the King’s face as he nodded in return.

King Ryan yanked the bindings once more, tipping the throne backward and letting it crash to the floor. In one swift motion, he tore the dagger hidden underneath the seat of his throne and sliced himself free of the bindings. 

You gasped as he turned the dagger to you for a brief moment, sliding it down the top of your dress. You were sat on his lap fully now, but he refused to touch you. 

“You need to learn obedience, sweetheart…” he began, looking lustfully at your body, “but that doesn’t mean we can’t have a little fun, right?”

You nodded, your chest heaving with nervous breaths as he brought the dagger back up to your shoulder, “I’ll give you a two minute head start.” 

You gulped and squeaked, “W-what?” 

King Ryan's tone became less playful, “You need to learn your lesson, Kitten. You can run, but when I find you, you will be punished.” 

Your eyes widened. The King stood you in front of him before turning around and lifting his throne from the floor, sitting in it casually. He took a careful drink of his wine and stabbed the dagger into the table with enough force to make you jump. 

“Run.”


	24. On the Run

You broke down the hall in a full sprint, abandoning your shoes like a fairytale princess. However, you knew at the end of this adventure, you weren't going to find your prince charming, but a very angry King. 

The corridors were all a blur as you tore down each one, turning up rugs, darting, and dodging the occasional castle attendee on the way. You found your way to a corner of the castle you hadn’t fully explored, but was delighted to find a spiraled set of stairs. You followed the turret’s wall with your hand and creaked open the door. 

You stumbled into the bedroom and shifted your weight from one leg to the other in haste. You didn’t have much time left, so it would have to do. 

You closed the door behind you, pulling a stool next to the massive wardrobe and climbed on top. Sinking below the flourish on the front, you caught your breath. The room was silent, yet the pounding of your heart seemed to be a dead giveaway. You were out of your territory now: hunted, but no need for a weapon; stalked, but no desire to hide. 

Still, you didn’t want to give in to this punishment without a fight. The anxiety of the unknown made your body twinge. You didn’t know what kind of discipline the King wanted to explore, but you would play along with his craving for control. 

You couldn’t explain your fascination with King Ryan. His, at times, coarse attitude and closed off personality drove you insane, yet that controlling stare made you want to drop to your knees in his presence. 

You strained to hear the faint sounds of footsteps downstairs. You adjusted your body so you were as low as you could comfortably be, perched precariously on top of the closet. The sound of steps moved closer; he was coming up the stairs. 

Suddenly, your fingers twitched with nervousness as you struggled to keep them clenched. You closed your eyes and held your breath in the silence.

_BANG_

A knock on the door, and King Ryan pushed it open effortlessly. 

“Kitten…” he taunted, walking through the spacious room and stopping just before the bed. 

You peeked just barely over the top to watch him inspect the underside of the bed. He still had his dagger, which he turned over nonchalantly in his hand as an afterthought. You hid once more when he stood up and sauntered toward the wardrobe, dragging the dagger across the wooden bedpost as he did.

“Where could she be hiding?” he thought out loud. “I will find you, my naughty girl. And when I do, you have a number of lessons to learn…” 

He gripped the handles of the closet doors and tore them open. The piece of furniture shook with great force, but you gripped the sides to steady your shaking. 

Unsatisfied, he looked into the back of the closet, but couldn’t find you. He closed the doors and made his leave, slamming the door behind him. 

“WARRIOR!” he bellowed, storming down the stairs. 

You trembled at the anger in his voice, but climbed down from the hiding spot. You needed to keep moving and stay a step ahead of him if you were going to wait out his displeasure. 

You could hide outside. It was dark enough now that you could find solace in a tree, and he would leave you until morning. Certainly enough time to cool off. 

Satisfied with your makeshift plan, you silently dropped to the floor and crept to the door. You put your hand on the handle and twisted it once, but immediately let go. 

The handle turned back. 

You took a shaky step backward as the door slowly opened toward you. 

There stood your Lord Dominant, towering over you, his dark eyes gleaming with satisfaction. 

He reached forward to hold your chin between his thumb and forefinger and breathed, “Found you.”


	25. Punished

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any other authors here just like to write smut, just for the sake of smut? Yeah, the Mad King makes me wanna do that. 
> 
> Let me know what you guys think, so far!

King Ryan slid his hand down to your waist and around to hold against the small of your back. With a swift pull, he yanked you flush against him, just barely brushing his lips against yours. 

“Kitten, you need to learn your place here. You aren’t the Queen. You are my property, and I think it’s time you feel the full extent of what that truly means.” 

He dragged the dagger down your front, cutting the beautiful gown to the top of your naval so your breasts were exposed. You immediately covered your body and your shamed face. 

He guided his hand up your back to tangle in your hair. 

“Are you ready?” 

You didn’t answer. Your body was already shaking with a combination of anticipation and fear. King Ryan placed his hand under your chin once more and guided your lips to meet his. He pressed his lips against yours, massaging your tongue sweetly. 

You sighed at the softness of his lips and returned the passion, resting your hands on his chest. The King brushed his thumb across your cheek to your hair where he gripped you tightly. 

“I asked a question, Kitten,” he said sternly, “Are you ready for your first lesson?” 

You yelped at the unpredicted pain and nodded, “Yes, King Ryan.”

He smirked and turned you around, guiding you to the edge of the bed. You watched him lay the dagger on the table beside you as he began. 

“Now, the first step in being your King’s property is giving up control.” 

He circled around the back of you and brought his hands up your stomach and chest, pressing his chest against your back in the process. 

“Do you think you can do that, baby? Give up control to your King?” 

He lightly peppered your shoulders with kisses and soft grazes with his teeth. 

You moaned at his touch and closed your eyes. His hands on your skin made your brain fuzzy, so you nodded immediately. 

You felt the King smile against your neck as he whispered in your ear 

“Good girl.” 

Without warning, he tore your dress down the front and let it fall around your feet. You covered the front of your naked body, your face beaming red with embarrassment. 

King Ryan ran a single digit down your back and off of your behind with a hungry growl, sending a shiver down your spine. He moved across the room to a large, burgundy velvet chair in the corner. 

His crown gleamed in the moonlight as you watched him relax, resting one hand on the arm of the chair, the other motioning for you to come nearer. 

“Come here, Kitten,” the King said firmly, crooking his finger in your direction. 

You wrapped your arm around your breasts, letting the other hang down to cover your womanhood. The dark room seemed too bright as you approached the King’s judging eyes. You stopped in front of him, tangling one leg behind the other in a timid stance. 

King Ryan reached forward and took your wrist, pulling you to his lap with a twirl. He brushed his fingers across your breasts, eliciting a moan from his tamed warrior. Your body grew warm from his touch, so you rested your hand on the King’s chest. He held your chin firmly, staring into your eyes, unblinking. 

“You are not to do anything without permission, Kitten. Is that understood?” 

You slowly withdrew your hand, gripping at the air in front of him and nodding, “Yes, my King.” 

He drummed his fingers over your bare legs to the opposite side of your hips. With one swift turn, he twisted you over, letting you fall across his lap. He dipped the fingers of one hand down your spine and the other over your behind in a smooth motion. 

“Deep breath, baby,” he quietly said, palming your behind. 

You let out a shaky breath and clenched your hands into fists. You knew what was coming. 

His hand wound back and came down against you in a sharp smack. The pain was strong; unlike anything you had experienced before. You inhaled and breathed out in a thin line of air. 

“That was a good start, Kitten,” the King sneered, “how much more can you take? You tell me when you’ve learned your lesson.” 

You reached down and grabbed his ankle in preparation for the onslaught of punishment. The King merely chuckled and spanked you again; harder this time.

You winced at the stinging pain while the King praised you. 

“Well done,” he cooed, brushing his fingers off your backside and down your thigh, “How about one more for good measure? You were quite disobedient.” 

King Ryan gave you a final slap, holding his hand in place, making the feeling surge down your legs. To your own surprise, you let out a quiet moan. 

The Mad King beamed at the sound as he lifted you to straddle his lap. 

“Ahhh, my naughty Warrior enjoyed that punishment.” 

He glided his fingers across and up your leg to collect a bit of your wetness, “Well, if you won’t beg for mercy with pain, let’s try to break your will with some pleasure.”


	26. The Test

King Ryan dipped his middle finger inside of you briefly and slid it out, stealing some of your juices. He brushed his finger up your already wet pussy and rested it on your clit, holding you in place by your most sensitive nerves. 

You gasped and began to writhe and wriggle, holding on to the King’s shoulders for support. 

“Ah, ah, ah,” King Ryan corrected, pushing you backward slightly, “no touching without permission, Kitten. Try your best to stay right there. Let’s see if you can impress me.” 

With great difficulty, you managed to nod and force a bare, “Yes, Sir,” as you gripped the arms of the chair on either side. 

King Ryan's focused on the work of his own hand, circling the lone digit around your clit and back down to your entrance in a repeated rhythm. You watched his process through increasingly loud moans. He looked entranced, and you noticed the growing bulge beneath you. 

As distracted as he seemed, King Ryan noticed and warned you before you could move.

“Don’t even try.” 

You gulped and adjusted your grip. You didn’t want to test his strength; your behind was certainly already red enough, so you gave in to his suggestion. 

You held your body up by the arms of the chair, your knees trembling as he slid two fingers inside of your hungry pussy. You let your head fall back and swore, your voice echoing off of the stone walls and back to your own ears.

_Was that really your own voice?_

Your moans sounded desperate. You were desperate for more of your Mad King. His talented fingers brushed against the walls of your pussy in a way his cock couldn’t reach. 

“Mmmm… such nice posture, my talented submissive,” the King praised. “Do you want to come for me already?” 

You nodded. You could already feel your orgasm building at an alarming rate, and King Ryan noticed, too. 

“Not yet,” he corrected, “you have to learn a lesson before you’re rewarded.” 

He removed his fingers inch by inch, leaving you with a tragic, empty feeling. Your whines didn’t save you as he put both fingers in his mouth to sample your juices. 

He turned his fingers to you, and you sucked on them liberally, your mouth blind to the taste of your own body. King Ryan simply let out a low chuckle in response and gripped your sore behind, standing with you. 

You arms shook, but you hesitated as you rested your hands on his broad arms for stability. He tossed you on the bed casually, and you scrambled to the edge on your knees, hoping he would continue what he started. 

Instead, King Ryan began to palm himself through his trousers. 

“Touch yourself,” he groaned, pulling at his hardening length. 

Your fingers darted to your clit, and you began massaging it like you had done before. 

“Slow circles, baby,” he righted, placing his hand on top of yours to instruct. “We don’t want you climaxing before I allow it, do we?” 

You shook your head and squeaked, “No, my Lord.” 

Your body was already on edge, and he was keeping you at bay. You knew the build up was only going to make the release more pleasurable, so you took deep, steady breaths to keep your arousal from tipping. 

“Good girl,” the King commended. 

A jolt of electricity skidded through your brain, and you let out a low moan. The King matched his breathing to yours and finally pulled down his trousers, stepping out of them to push them aside. 

Your mouth immediately opened, and you let your tongue hang out with a whine. Your reactions were so animalistic, as if your body was controlling your desires now. 

King Ryan let out a deep sigh when he wrapped his hand around his length again and continued to play with himself. 

“You want this, Kitten?” 

You nodded furiously, making your fingers work yourself quicker in anticipation. 

“Please, my King.”

With his free hand, King Ryan crooked his finger in your direction, tugging at an invisible string to bring you just to the edge of his cock. He tantalizingly moved it between his fingers, dragging some of his own wetness on his finger and offering it to his submissive. 

Without hesitation, you wrapped your lips around his finger and sucked down your Dominant’s juices with a moan. He was intoxicating, his taste leaving you wanting more. 

You looked up at him with a needing stare. You desperately desired him, and you were begging with your eyes. 

King Ryan guided your mouth with his finger to the tip of his length and slid it in your mouth with a purposeful slowness. Again, you moaned for him, this time with a slight relief. 

For a brief moment, you both were lost. You skimmed your mouth down his length until he was halfway inside before he stopped you. 

“Baby,” he breathed, struggling slightly to keep his composure, “not yet.” 

He gripped your head and gradually pulled you back until his tip was all that remained inside of your greedy mouth. You looked up and whined for him again, hoping the vibrations would invite him to forget the lesson. 

King Ryan met your eyes, combing your hair as he instructed you, “Do you know why you’re being punished?” 

You tried to pull your mouth off of his cock to respond, but his palm held you firmly, so you spouted muffled confusions and small whines. 

“Kitten, you’re being punished because you still cannot give up control.” Ryan brought his hand to the top of your head and let your hair fall through his fingers as he pushed it back. “You need to trust your King. Do you understand?” 

You eyes were fixated on your King as he spoke. Your eyes, body, and mind ignored every other noise except for the ones the man before you made. 

You felt drunk, but had no alcohol. Your body was immobile, yet you weren't restrained. The only thought going through your mind was to do everything your Dominant asked.

Entranced by his careful control, you let the King pull his cock out of your mouth without fight. He brushed his fingers across your lips, almost lovingly as he waited for your response. 

“Will you trust in me, Warrior?” 

You swallowed the remaining saliva and licked your lips to look proper in his presence. 

“I trust you.”


	27. Trust Tested

King Ryan smiled and gently cooed, “Good girl.” 

Without warning, he stretched his arms to grab your waist and flip you over on your back. Now that you were exposed to him, Ryan danced his fingers up your thighs to grip either side of your hips. 

You gasped as you lay, staring at his length upside down, pinned under him. Ryan lifted a finger to his lips and gave it a quick suck before returning it to your pussy, dabbing it on your clit slowly. 

“Now that you’re willing, Kitten,” he started, loud enough so you could hear him even from your hidden position, “I think it’s time to put that trust to the test. Don’t you think?” 

You let out small whines and moans as he toyed with you. Your body had been so close to its brink multiple times tonight with no release. You never had to hold out for this long, and it was taking a toll on you already. 

You shook as the cold sweat took over. You pushed passed the difficulty and focused again on your King, hanging on to every word he blessed you with. 

“What better way to test your trust than physically?” he inquired as he wrapped his hands around your waist and under your back, lifting you up flush against him. 

You gasped and tried to grasp his legs for support, thinking you were surely going to fall, but he smoothly corrected you. 

“Warrior. Trust me.”

With a deep breath you put your full faith in your Lord Dominant and let go. 

You hung upside down freely, your mouth hovering above his cock. King Ryan smiled and kissed your exposed pussy as a reward. 

“My very, very good girl.” He continued to swipe his tongue across your flesh, occasionally enclosing his lips around your pussy to drink in your wetness. 

Your moans were quieter than before as you focused on the sounds of your King. You let your hands wander down the front of his legs and up the back. He didn’t seem to be struggling with you at all; his body was locked in place with you dangling underneath him. 

King Ryan dragged his tongue from your clit to your entrance with painstaking precision, eliciting a deep moan. 

“Don’t be greedy, baby. C’mon. Let’s see what you can do. You’ve already impressed me once,” he groaned as he left a deep mark on your inner thigh. 

You gasped and stared at his manhood in front of you. Although the angle was the same, the blood rushing to your head made for a unique approach. 

You awkwardly brought your hand up your body to hold his base and put the tip of his cock in your mouth. It was strange, at first; as though you had forgotten how to use your head while gravity worked against you. 

After some troublesome moments, you managed to please your King with relative ease. You held him around his lower back to assist your mouth’s mission, and you smiled when you heard him moan loudly in response. 

“Gooood girrrrl…” he finally growled, focusing his lips on your sensitive bundle of nerves. 

You didn’t relent, tailoring your body to concentrate on him, pulling your head as close as you could to his base to take him in entirely. Your head started to swoon. Gravity was catching up with you, as the blood drained. 

Your vision clouded, so you dragged your mouth off of his cock with intentions to whisper for relief, but King Ryan was first to respond. He released your right side and scooped you up so you were caressed in his arms, holding you for a brief moment to regain clarity. 

“We’re not done, yet. You’re not going to touch this floor until I say you can,” he rumbled as he kissed your neck to keep you engaged. 

You moaned in return, closing your eyes to escape the dizziness. You opened them again when he lifted you, guiding your leg around his waist and pinning you against the wall. You gripped his shoulders and watched him reach between you to hold his cock teasingly. 

“Say it,” he demanded, “say you’re mine.” His eyes bore into yours as he brushed his lips against yours. 

You swallowed thickly. There was no second guessing it now; you knew it was true. 

King Ryan knew it, as well, and he smiled.

“Go on, Kitten. Tell your Dom.” 

You nodded and spoke clearly, “I’m yours, King Ryan.” 

His grin grew wider as he slid the tip of his cock into your ready pussy. You let out a moan louder than ever before and let your head fall back, but he quickly held your neck to meet his eyes again. 

“Ask me,” he pressed, still holding the gaze. 

You looked at him quizzically. 

“What?” 

You didn’t think you heard him clearly, but he didn’t repeat himself. Instead, he only nodded. Up until this moment you thought your relationship was a one-sided domination, yet here he was, wanting you to claim the King as your property. 

You gripped the back of his head tightly and breathed into him, “My King… Say you’re mine.” 

King Ryan slid himself inside of your warmth and you moaned in unison, both needing the tension broken. Your eyes never broke, however. You secured your legs around his waist and let your body relax into him. 

King Ryan brought you back off of his length slowly by your hips and slammed you back down as he groaned, “Yours.”


	28. Release

Your moans collected in your throat and escaped with a loud release each time he filled you. You gripped his shoulders tightly for extra support, but you didn’t need it. King Ryan was controlling your hip motions with his hands and waist alone. 

You slid your palms flat down his toned arms. He was an impressive man, bracing your entire weight in his grip. 

He alternated between quick thrusts and purposeful pulls out of you. He was toying with you. You were enjoying it, but there was no reason you couldn’t make him squirm too, right? 

You raised both of your arms over your head and rested them against the stone wall, arching your back toward the King. When he pulled out, you suddenly tightened your walls just as he was ready to fill you. 

You smiled at King Ryan's groan. Finally, a taste of the power you were denied.

“ _Warrior_ ,” he simply growled as his eyes rolled to the back of his head.

He dragged his cock from your walls to rest just outside and tease your entrance. His eyes were black and his voice thick with lust. 

“Are you trying to make me come?” 

You didn’t need to answer the rhetorical question, so you bit your lip and moaned. You found his weakness, and you were going to exploit every inch. 

You tensed just before he pressed into you again, your pussy fighting his entrance. King Ryan's mouth dropped open, and he descended on your lips in a passionate kiss. 

You met him with just as much fervor and cradled the back of his head as he worked his length inside of you. He was building you up again, but, this time, you didn’t whine or complain for more. You knew he was going to give you release if you were patient. 

Finally, your body reached that edge again. This time, passed a brink you could pull yourself from. 

“S….Sir…” you struggled to breathe against his lips. 

King Ryan noticed your need and kept the quickened pace. 

“Do you want to come for me, Kitten? You’ll need to beg,” he offered, adjusting his grip your under your bottom. 

You let out a long moan and didn’t fight your urge, “Pleeeease, my King! Please let me come!” 

King Ryan watched you wrench and writhe, restraining your pleasure just for him. You watched him reach his climax, but he held back to come with his submissive. 

“Alright, baby. Let’s orgasm together,” he suggested, “I’ll start from three because you have been so obedient.” 

You struggled to nod, your chest heaving, hoping he would make the torture quick. 

“Three...”

You moved your hips to meet his as your walls clenched around him, trapping him inside. 

“Two…” 

You gripped his shoulders and prepared yourself for the long awaited release. 

Suddenly, King Ryan lowered your waist and arched his cock, so it brushed against your ceiling. He hit a soft and sensitive spot in your pussy even you didn’t know existed, sending a jolt of electricity through your body and out of your mouth as though your soul was escaping. He matched your moan and barely breathed.

“One…”

You released the pent up frustration in unison, and you came harder than you ever had before. He coated the walls of your pussy in his juices, and you let your orgasm flow freely, dripping down and out of your body. It slid down his length and made a mess on the floor between you both, but neither of you had the wherewithal to pay it any mind.

“Good girl. My good, good girl,” he staggered, pinning your sensitive spot with his length. 

His arms starting to shake, but he refused to let you go, opting to feel you empty yourself all over him and the floor as you both descend from the high. 

Your body trembled as you lost all control. You abandoned all hints of shame and deflated against your, now solidified, Dominant: King Ryan. 

He cautiously moved around the mess toward the bed and gently lowered you, making certain to keep his chest pressed against yours throughout the transfer. Your legs fell around him, your chest heaving with heavy breaths. He rested his forehead against yours as he eased his length out of you. 

You felt the gradual emptiness as he left; yet your body was still full. You winced at the irritation. You knew you were going to be more sore than before. King Ryan really did a number on you this time.

He moved down you and lightly dotted your body with soft affections, leaving a halo of kisses around your navel. You closed your eyes and reveled in the moment. You didn’t have a care in the world because he did the caring for you. 

“Stay here, sweetheart,” he whispered against your soft skin, “I’ll be right back.” 

You wanted to protest; to sit up and ask him not to go, but your tired body couldn’t manage the extra effort. You turned your head and watched your King don his trousers and walk out the door. 

You shifted your head back to stare at the ceiling, focusing on the sound of your own breathing. Your arms spread wide across the bed, and you smiled contently. 

His. You were his. 

You casually turned toward the door as King Ryan re entered the room quietly. He smiled and made his way to the foot of the bed where he left you, kneeling beside you and gently brushing a warm cloth up your cold thighs. 

You flinched slightly at the contact, but sighed at the relief. He ghosted it over your delicate area until he was satisfied, setting the cloth aside and lifting himself up the bed. 

He enveloped you in his arms, so you cozied yourself deeper in his care. Even through the darkness of the room, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his, engrossed in his demeanor, his dedication. He directed your hair behind your ear and brought the back of his index finger down the length of your nose with a chuckle. 

 

“Did you enjoy that, Warrior?” he asked as he brought the blanket over you both. 

He massaged the back of your head with his free hand caringly. 

You wanted to run your fingers through his hair. You wanted to hold his cheek. …But you didn’t. 

You watched his eyelids droop; he wasn’t going to last much longer. Within a few winks, he drifted to sleep beside you. You took advantage of his sleepy state and slowly raised your hand to his chin. You cautiously brushed your fingers against his jawline, pressing your lips to his in a barely detectable kiss. 

“Yes, my King. I did.”


	29. Middle of the Night

You could tell it was early; the sun had barely peeked through the window, and the only apparent sounds emanating were the morning songbirds. You rubbed your eyes and silently yawned, turning over on the pillow. 

Your eyes met King Ryan's sleeping form. His hair was matted to the pillow; his lips slightly parted as his deep breaths escaped. His cheeks were still blushed from arousal. 

You bit your lip at the sight of him; the pang of desire creeping through your brain. You pushed the thoughts aside; however, your body was exhausted. You had taken each other multiple times in the night, and you needed a break. 

You brushed your fingers across his chest, doing so gently, to ensure you were undetected. In this state, he was so approachable. You only had a short amount of time before he would wake and have charge of you. You studied his shoulders, the musculature of his arms, and down to his hands. Even in his slumber, you felt his phantom grip. 

Your King; now your Dominant. 

The smile from the previous night returned. You inched your eyes back up his frame to his face. His pink cheeks stood out against his blonde hair. He looked so peaceful for a Mad King. 

Your smile faded slightly. In his care for you, you had almost forgotten his murdering tendencies. You didn’t yet know your King, and you wondered if he’d ever let you. 

Your eyes grazed his lips, with your fingers following. Suddenly, he smiled. 

“Mmmm… good morning, Kitten,” he said, an uncharacteristically awake sound in his voice. 

You immediately withdrew your hand and moved a few inches back, to a more proper distance. He secured his arm around your waist and tugged you back into place with force. 

“How is my Warrior feeling today? I certainly did a number on you.” He thumbed the marks on your waist and chuckled. “It looks like you might need a day or two to recover.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. Here was the smug King Ryan you were waiting for. 

With a burst of confidence, you swung your leg over his waist in a straddle. His smile grew, but kept a firm hold on your waist. You leaned down and pressed your lips against his in a claiming kiss, pulling his bottom lip between your teeth. He growled in return at the ministration. 

“You wish” you dared, grinding against his growing excitement. You gripped his hair and yanked his head back to expose his neck. 

“Why don’t you fuck me again before you make your judgment?” you challenged. 

He flipped you over, pinning your arms above your head and biting your shoulder roughly. 

“I love a challenge.”


	30. Insight

The second time you woke, it was your stomach’s doing. Your body was thoroughly drained and you needed nourishment. 

You turned over to greet your King again, but found him missing. Instead, a tray of food sat on the bedside table. You crawled over to it and found a spread, laid out just for you. 

You began filling yourself and read the note left by your King:

_“Warrior,_

__

_I apologize for not being there when you wake again. I owe you a proper breakfast in bed after your next lesson. Freshen up and join me in the throne room when you’re ready.”_

You sat the note aside and took another incisive bite of the crusty bread. He seemed to run away early in the morning, and you needed to figure out why. 

\--

You opted for a light and airy dress today, as the castle itself warmed from the sun’s beams. The cut was looser than your previous choices and you had to keep pulling the sleeve over your shoulder to keep yourself decent.

 _Coffee. Tea. Anything with caffeine,"_ you thought to yourself.

Your shoes tapped against the stone on your way down the spiraled staircase and to the kitchen. You smiled to yourself as you snuck some liquid relief.

“Good morning.” 

A voice from behind startled you, so you turned to confront the stranger. 

It was Ramsey. 

You greeted him with a welcoming grin, “Good morning, Sir Ramsey. Do you need something?” 

He shook his head and took a cup from the adjoining cupboard. 

“No, just looking for something to drink,” he assured. 

He reached behind your head and found a pitcher filled with wine. He proceeded to pour the drink to the brim of his cup and gulped it down in a swift inhale. 

You raised your eyebrow, “Drinking on the job?” 

He sat the cup down and chuckled, “When you work for King Ryan, you’ll find you need it. It looks like I should offer you some, too.” He motioned to your shoulder, bare from the fallen sleeve now exposing your plentifully bestrewn flesh. 

You brought up your garment and tried your best to hide the redness in your face. You might enjoy belonging to the King, but you didn’t need to advertise it just yet. 

Ramsey let out a deep laugh and reassured you, “It’s alright, Warrior. It’s common knowledge around here that King Ryan likes to be in control. He likes to mark his prized possessions.” 

He poured another half glass of wine, but sipped it casually this time. 

“It’s a shame, though,” he conceded with a shake of his head. 

“What’s that?” you asked as you took a step back, away from him. 

He smirked and closed the space slightly, “Although I’m sure you have many… talents…” he trailed off, eyeing you.

You held your dress closer, nervously. 

“He’s still wasting so much of you.”

You blinked. He was right. King Ryan hadn’t yet taken the time to truly get to know you outside of physical pleasure. 

Ramsey finished his drink, turned on his heel, and strode out the door with great confidence, leaving you to wonder in his wake.


	31. In the King's Court

The castle was bustling with activity today. Normally, the halls would be relatively empty at this time, save for the occasional servant, but, this day was different. There were many faces you didn’t recognize. Most of whom weren’t in the King’s uniforms. Rather, they were in street clothes. 

You stopped one of the maids as you neared the throne room and inquired. 

“Excuse me. What’s the occasion?” You motioned to the people waiting outside of the door. 

“It’s the third day of the month, miss: the day that King Ryan holds an audience for the people,” she responded and hurried off about her duties. 

A public audience? You didn’t know the King held such a reception. 

You stood with the throng of people at the entrance to the throne room, awaiting the doors to open. 

Suddenly, the caretaker took your arm and gently tugged you away. 

“This way,” she snapped. 

You followed the woman down a short hallway to a hidden side entrance to the throne room. 

The suite was larger than the doors lead on from the outside. The ceiling had to be at least twenty feet tall, and it was vaulted, almost as though it was meant to be a cathedral originally. 

A long emerald carpet stretched from the door to the King’s golden throne at the head of the room. The windows behind the throne stretched from the floor to the ceiling, making it hard for one to focus on the King if he were sat in his chair. The hall was lined with chairs for officials, officers, and anyone of importance, but the throne stood alone on its perch. The throne’s cushions matched the rug and it was adorned with intricate designs. 

You wanted to investigate further, but the caretaker ushered your toward a chair on the room’s boarder. 

“Sit here. King Ryan will enter soon,” she instructed. 

You sat down as you were told, hoisting your sleeves again for good measure and tucking one leg behind the other. You weren't dressed to be in front of an audience or for the Kingdom, for that matter. 

You heard a loud voice outside of the doors before they burst open, the crowd spilling through and stopping at the stairs, just before the rows of chairs where you sat. You studied a few in the crowd briefly. Many looked worried; perhaps because they were going to stand in front of the King? 

The Herald of the court stood in front of the crowd and commanded the room with his booming announcement:

“His royal Highness, King Ryan!” 

Everyone snapped to attention when he entered the room, and you dragged your eyes up his form as he arrived: first his feet, then his legs, his torso, and, finally, his eyes. He must have known where you would be sat because his stare met yours instantaneously. 

The crown atop his head was the key to his royal posture, and he commanded the throne when he sat. Even amidst the large crowd, he held your gaze uninterrupted. 

Without warning, King Ryan crooked his finger in your direction; an indication for you to come closer. Your eyes grew wide. Did he really want you to approach him now? In front of all of these people? 

Astonished, you slowly rose out of your humble chair and walked toward your King. He continued the motion as you did, gradually tugging the invisible string with a smirk until you were stood in front of him. 

“Hello Warrior,” he greeted you as though he hadn’t just fucked your body to sleep a few hours earlier. 

Your throat was dry. All you could feel were the eyes of every citizen boring on the back of your neck and the fluidity of your ill-fitting gown. You fidgeted with it briefly before King Ryan grew impatient. He grabbed your wrist and gently pulled you closer. 

“Warrior,” he warned, “Greet your King.” 

You gulped passed the arid spot and squeaked a simple salutation, “H-hello, my King.” 

His smile grew and he continued, as though you both were the only two in the room. 

“Did you eat? You needed the energy.” 

He dragged his fingers down to your hand and took your fingers in his own. You nodded, affirming. 

“Yes, I did.” 

The unceasing stare returned. You felt drawn to him again as he hypnotized you with casual conversation. He smiled and raised his other hand to hold your chin. 

“Good girl. Now,” he continued, “it’s time for your next lesson.” 

Your body stiffened and your eyes expanded once more as the memories of the King’s punishment rushed through your mind. He seemed to read your body language and let out a low chuckle.

“I’m not going to spank you, Kitten. Besides, you’re a good girl now, right?” 

You nodded and barely peeped a “Yes” in reply. 

He drew you close enough to stand between his legs as he sat on his throne and spoke low. 

“No, Warrior, today’s lesson is about being unafraid.” 

You cocked your head to the side quizzically. 

“Today, I’m holding an audience for the Kingdom, and you will be on my lap throughout it all.” 

You brought an errant sleeve over your shoulder, and King Ryan eyed it hungrily. “

Today, everyone will know you belong to me,” he, surprisingly, brought your hand to his lips and kissed it with care, twirling you around and pulling you down to his lap. 

He moved back in the throne, adjusting you so you sat comfortably perched on him, his arm around you waist, securing your seat. Your eyes scanned the confused crowd. 

You must look a sight to begin with, and now they knew, you were the King’s whore. 

King Ryan kissed the back of your neck and massaged your head with his free hand. With gusto, he commanded the first citizen in the crowd to come forward.


	32. Enemies Without

Many of the citizens raised issues with simple solutions in the King’s eyes: waiving a tax, promising more trade options, even handing out food to individuals who asked. The crowd dwindled, with only a small collection remaining after an hour’s worth of time. 

All the while you sat on his lap, stiff with anxiety in the situation. You were underdressed and on display for the world. 

“Next,” the King ordered to the group. 

He grazed his hand up your back and met your head, massaging your head and neck with care. He leaned in to kiss the back of your ear and whispered. 

“Relax, Kitten… You’re with me. There’s nothing to fear.” 

You wanted to turn and glare at him, but you were sure he wouldn’t appreciate the gesture in front of his minions. 

A medium-sized man approached the foot of the stairs and lowered to one knee. 

“Your Highness,” he began, “I humbly request an audience with my Lord.” 

King Ryan waived him on, just as he had done with the others. Actually, the King seemed distracted with you. He dragged the fingers of one hand up and down your back while the other explored your thighs. You kept straight, even though the attention made you melt. 

The man before the pair was unimpressive, you decided, for he looked like a simple farmhand, or low ranking tradesman. He appeared to be the kind of man that blended into a crowd easily. He looked well fed, relatively clean and groomed, so you wondered what he could be asking for. 

The man raised his head in the King’s direction and boldly asked, “Sir, what are you going to do about the Legion?” 

King Ryan promptly shot up, ceasing his spotlight of your body. You turned your head to see the King’s reaction. He looked almost angry, but entertained the question.

“What are your concerns?”

“Well, every day we hear word of the Legion advancing on outer villages. Stealing, kidnapping, killing, adopting our own into their ranks; is it all true?” 

King Ryan brought his hands to either side of his chair and firmly retorted. 

“Rumors. You musn’t adopt everything you hear.” 

The man wrung his hands nervously, no doubt at the thought of upsetting the Mad King. 

“My apologies, my King. I only wish to express my concern for our safety.” 

Suddenly, King Ryan stood up, making you fall off of his lap and to the floor. 

“The Legion will NOT have my Kingdom,” he boomed. 

He needn't say anything else. The man sank back to the crowd, muttering muffled bits of gratitude for the King’s time. 

Ramsey stepped beside King Ryan and whispered something in his ear, prompting the King to nod. He reached out his hand to you and helped you to your feet, leading you out of the room via the door in which he entered. 

He was fuming. He clearly wasn’t pleased that this group was slowly taking over his Kingdom, piece by piece. 

“My King?” you prodded, keeping pace behind him. 

He halted in the hallway and turned to hold your chin. 

“I am not in the mood to teach you a lesson right now, Kitten. I have business to take care of. Be ready for dinner.”

You furrowed your brow. 

You didn’t like being pushed away like that, so you inquired, “Could I come with you?” 

The King shook his head, “No. I said be ready for dinner. That’s final.” 

Ramsey walked behind you to continue along with the King. 

“Ah, the charm of your Lord Dominant?” 

He smirked as he brushed passed you, and you clutched your sleeve again. This time, with anger.

You needed to vent.


	33. Target Practice

After making a quick stop to your bedroom for a wardrobe change, you strode straight to the gardens, seeking out the war room you previously discovered. You tore up the bar across the door and threw it open in a huff. You scanned the room for an appropriate candidate. Finally, you settled on a bow, larger and crafted with stiffer wood than your own. You selected a few average arrows along with one of the tri-pronged, expanding arrows. Carefully, you placed them in a quiver and swung it over your shoulder. 

You exited the shed and walked its perimeter to the targets located behind its façade. Sanding opposite the target, you began at fifteen meters, placing the arrow and drawing your bow back with a deep sigh. You released the arrow, but didn’t watch its flight. Instead, you took another arrow and fired it toward the same destination. 

After you finished with the wooden arrows, you went to retrieve them from the straw-filled target. To your dismay, your aim had been sporadic, the arrows littering it sadly. You frowned and ripped each out with a tear, stomping back to twenty-five meters away from your challenge. 

_Why doesn’t he include me? I’m much more than some slave._

You took the first arrow and laced it in your bow with another deep sigh. You wanted to feel anger, rage, any form of hatred for your kidnapper King. Instead, you felt hurt. 

Quickly, you brushed the feeling aside. A lone wolf, that’s what you needed to remember. 

You inhaled and held your breath, focusing just above the center of the target to account for the distance. 

Your heart slowed its beat, and your fingers held steady. You let out the air in thin stream and snapped the line when you were empty. The arrow flew to the target, but you tracked it the entire distance. It made contact with a _thwack,_ and you trekked to your results. 

The arrow was firmly lodged near the center. Happy with your performance, you smirked to yourself. You withdrew the arrow and returned to the same spot.

As you bent down to gather another arrow from the quiver for practice, you stopped when you saw the mechanical intruder. 

You gingerly lifted the arrow to study it. It was heavier than the others. You wondered how much correction it would need to hit the target from this distance. 

You turned it over in your hand. It was evenly balanced, so it wouldn’t turn end over end in the air. 

You poked the tri-pronged tip of the weapon and up the jagged length. It was a once and done shot, not meant to be removed from the target. You brought the arrow to lace in your bow. It was too heavy for it, so you propped it on your knuckle for support. 

You pulled it back as taut as the string would allow, aiming higher than before. 

You inhaled, exhaled, and released the projectile. 

It sank and slammed in the bottom of the target with great force. You jogged to check your results. It was firmly lodged in its intended destination, even when you struggled to pull it out. 

“Miss,” a terse, voice behind you appeared. 

You turned toward the now familiar tone and greeted the caretaker with a murmur. 

“I’m here to collect you and prepare you for the King.” 

You dragged your finger off of the arrow, still imbedded in the target.


	34. An Intimate Dinner

The dining hall was in its normal state when you entered, this time. There seemed to be no special occasion or fanfare about the evening. Still, there King Ryan sat at his throne, waiting for his Warrior to arrive. His head was resting in his hand, and he looked still deep in thought. You crept from the side entrance you opted for, and watched him circle his finger on his goblet absentmindedly. 

“Your guest has arrived, King Ryan,” the caretaker boomed loudly in your ear unexpectedly. 

That woman would, no doubt, excel in stealth warfare. 

The King turned immediately, rising from his chair to greet his date. He smiled when he saw your attire. You adjusted your hair on your left side, a nervous fidget when his unwavering eyes found you. King Ryan held an outstretched hand as an invitation to come nearer. He nodded at the caretaker as an afterthought.

“That will be all.” 

She exited the room backward while curtseying, refusing to turn her back to her King. 

You cautiously stepped forward and took his hand. Now that you were alone with him, you scanned the room; a distraction from getting lost in his eyes. The tablecloth was dark, nearly as black as your dress, with small gold detailing around its edges. The setting was a matching gold with tall tapered candles adorning the table to set the mood. Two servants came through the door from across the room with wine to pour and place the first tray of food. 

King Ryan didn’t acknowledge them. Instead, he drew you closer, holding your chin with his free hand. 

“I’ll bet you’re wondering what I have planned tonight,” he began, guiding you toward the table. 

You gulped and barely nodded. You never knew what was going on in his mind and it was beginning to irk you. 

“I don’t expect you to ever include me,” you retorted with dryness to your tone. 

His smirk faded and his eyes darkened. 

“Be careful, Warrior,” he warned, his tone so low, you had to strain your ears to hear him clearly. “You are only afforded one warning tonight. Cross me again, and I will punish you.” 

You eyed him, gauging the playfulness of his mood. 

“More spanking?” you inquired, rolling your eyes. 

He slapped the side of your leg unexpectedly and yanked you closer, so your lips brushed against his. 

“Test me again, and I will parade you through the halls nude so everyone will see the marks.” 

You slacked your stance and shifted your weight from one leg to the other. He smirked at your submissive state. 

“I’ll bet you’re hungry.” 

You glanced behind his shoulder at the food. Your mouth watered; it did look appetizing. 

You _mmhm’ed_ and you both made your way to the table, King Ryan pulling out the chair for you before seating himself. 

He lifted his glass and offered you a toast. 

“To you, Warrior.” 

You raised your eyebrow with your glass in hand. 

“Me?” 

He grinned from ear to ear. 

“You’re learning faster than I expected.” 

You tapped your goblet against his and drank the liquid down in a frenzy. It was true, you succumbed to him too easily, uncharacteristically, if you were being completely honest with yourself. 

King Ryan wasted no time and began eating, but held the conversation. 

“For a while, I could see you actually got comfortable with my company today.” 

You took a small bite of the bread before you. 

“Now the Kingdom knows you’re mine,” he continued, looking up as he ate. 

You shivered at the thought of the hundreds of eyes judging you. 

He must have noticed your discomfort, so he laid his utensils down to reach for your hands, holding them delicately. 

“Kitten, you’ve said you’re mine. I am going to treat you as my girl regardless of where we are,” he said, bringing one of his hands over the top of your head. 

He gripped the back of your head and pulled you in to a deep kiss. You sighed and returned the loving affection as fervently as he. 

Just then, a servant entered from the far, kitchen door with the next course. You snapped back to your straight posture at the intrusion. 

More prying eyes. 

The servant’s surprise at your actions stopped him only for a moment, but he continued his duty without question. King Ryan frowned, upset with your recoil. He scolded you as the third party left the dining room.

“I think you’re due for your next lesson, Kitten. On my lap.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I've officially caught up with my reserve of chapters for this work. But, take heed! I am writing new chapters as we speak, so I will keep this story moving! I have plans for this one because King Ryan is my favorite character to craft, so keep watch. 
> 
> Chapter posts will be a bit more sporadic, however. If you get antsy, just drop a comment and ask, I'll let you know how close I am to the next post. Also, I have more Ryan x Reader fics in the pipeline, so expect more smutty goodness! 
> 
> Thank you for all of the support on this guy! It honestly means the world to have positive reviews for a story I throughly enjoy writing. Enjoy, lovelies!


	35. Dinner Games

You blinked and stared at your crazy King. 

_Here, in the dining room?_

He must have heard your thoughts because the King snapped his fingers. 

“Now!” 

You rose from your chair quickly and settled on his lap. His arms were around you in an instant, and his hands brushed up your back to hold your hair tightly in his grip. 

“I thought I would make your lesson less intimidating today. I thought I was being kind; easygoing. I thought you would learn quickly, but that’s clearly not the case,” he spoke low, his mouth on your ear. 

Lust flooded your body as he whispered; your heart beat faster with every word. He let go briefly to pull the table closer to his chair, lifting the tablecloth to rest on your thighs. 

“I see we’re going to have to take more…drastic measures. Maybe then you’ll learn the lesson I’m trying to teach,” he said, holding your thigh. 

His fingers danced over your knee, raising your dress up your leg. 

Your eyes widened at his approach, and you finally protested. 

“My King, anyone could walk in here. I don’t think this is the best time...” your voice trailed off as you checked each door. 

“That is exactly the point, Warrior,” he continued. “You need to trust my touch no matter the venue.”

Ryan’s fingers traced your lap, pulling them apart with a firm grip. He bit your earlobe and palmed the inside of your thighs. His fingers found the ribbons of your undergarments and tugged them off, loosening their protection.

You straightened again as Ryan’s fingers ghosted over your clit. He circled his index and middle fingers around it briefly before returning to your thighs. You exhaled deeply, making the King chuckle. 

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” he cooed. “Naughty little thing. ”

You bit your lip. He wasn’t wrong. His fingers did feel incredible. But that didn’t negate the fear. 

“My King...” you whined as his hips moved against your backside. 

Ryan ignored your objections, pulling the fabric of your undergarments completely off so they fell to the floor. He palmed the small of your back, pushing you forward while he used his free hand to loosen his trousers. 

You laid forward on the table, pushing the collection of dishes and cups further ahead to give yourself more room. King Ryan’s fingers swiped over your pussy, coating you briefly before bringing you back down to his lap. 

You gasped when you realized his manhood was easing into your core. With every inch you sat, King Ryan vanished further into his dominant demeanor. You dug your fingernails into the wood of the table as he disappeared inside of you to the hilt. You moved your hips in a circular motion against his, making him groan into your neck.

“You are a naughty girl,” he growled. “Perhaps this should be a game rather than a lesson.”

Ryan readjusted your skirt back around his legs, hiding any evidence of your improper nature. He thrust into you a few times for good measure before reaching around you to grab his goblet. 

He drank the remainder of his wine and slammed it on the table beside you. He wrapped his arm around your chest once more, making you lean back into him, so he could speak clearly. 

“Now here’s the game, Kitten,” he began. “You’re going to tighten yourself around me for a count of three, then release. Then repeat: tighten and release. Understood? Let’s try it.”

You blinked as you realized what he told you to do. Your body ached as your pussy swelled around him, so you tightened your muscles around his length. It felt so good to pulse on his hardness, so you took some breaths while he moaned. 

_One, two, three._

You let go, releasing your nails from the table in unison with the action. You turned your head to look at King Ryan. His cheeks were flushed. Clearly, he was enjoying this even though it was your “lesson.”

He smiled when you caught his gaze, and he placed a finger under your chin, giving you a soft kiss. 

“Good girl,” he praised. “You’re almost there. Now, I’m going to call in one of the servants. Don’t forget your job. You don’t want to lose this game, Kitten.” 

He called out to the servant before you could protest. Promptly, a woman walked in and hurried to the table, awaiting instruction. 

“Pour me more wine,” he ordered with a thunderous voice. 

Immediately, she took the large pitcher from the corner of the table and poured his goblet full. King Ryan pressed his fingers into your hips as a reminder. 

Your face was burning with embarrassment. You were certain she could surmise what you were doing, and although it felt pleasurable, it was humiliating nonetheless. 

King Ryan adjusted in his seat casually, to the naked eye, but, under the table, he thrust into you. You grabbed the edge of the table to steady yourself, and the servant looked out of the corner of her eye. 

“Are you alright, m’lady?” she inquired softly. 

You nodded, fearing what noise you would make if you dared to open your mouth. You took a deep breath and tightened around King Ryan once more. 

_One, two, three._

“Will there be anything else, my Lord?” the servant asked, taking a step backward and looking at her feet. 

The King drank the entirety of his cup and sat it on the table motioning for more. 

“Again,” he instructed, palming your hip. 

You winced and, yet again, tightened while the servant filled the goblet.

_One, two, three._

His length pulsed inside of you, rhythmically. She sat the cup and pitcher down, once more. 

“Leave us,” King Ryan commanded with clear strain in his voice. The servant turned on her heel and left the room with haste. 

When the door slammed shut, you released the tension and sighed, your chest heaving. Burying your face in your hands, you growled in frustration. King Ryan groaned loudly, turning into a chuckle as he wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you against his chest. 

“Fuck, Kitten, I almost lost it, there,” he moaned into your ear. He ran his tongue around its shell and played with your chest. 

“You did such a good job,” he praised. “I think that’s enough lessons for you tonight. Perhaps we should finish our supper and rest.”

You stared at the opposite end of the table with growing anger. You were more than worked up, and you needed more. 

Damn whoever walked in during the act.


	36. Turning Tables

Without warning, you stood straight up, making King Ryan gasp from the sudden shock. Your knees buckled, but you turned to face him. 

“Now it’s time for your lesson, my King,” you growled, falling on him with a rough kiss. 

You tangled your tongue with his, and he returned the enthusiasm. He pulled his lips away to catch his breath, while you continued to suck on his neck with obscene sounds. 

“ _You’re_ going to teach _me_ a lesson, Warrior?” he inquired with a laugh. “And what, pray tell, are you going to teach me?”

“How to fuck in public,” you snarled, tearing his shirt off at the front and pushing it back. 

You attacked his chest with sloppy kisses as you worked on pulling his trousers off completely. King Ryan simply enjoyed the attention, hands tangling in your hair with a firm grip. 

“Why so… _eager,_ now, Kitten?” he asked between moans, barely breathing your submissive nomenclature. 

You traced around the musculature of his chest and followed your finger with gentle bites as you considered the question. It’s true; you changed your tone, completely. However, the thought of someone catching the pair of you in such a filthy state started to feel, exhilarating. At least, while you were in your state of extreme desire. 

“Aw, what?” you mocked with a faux pout. “My Lord Dominant, King Ryan is feeling a little timid tonight? Don’t you want to ruin me? Right here?” 

You loosened the top of your dress to let your breasts spill out. King Ryan groaned at the sight and dove for one of your nipples, sucking it roughly. He worked his hands down your bodice to the top of your skirt, drawing the ties back to relieve you of your restraints. 

“I am going to fuck you, Warrior, and I will make you scream loud enough for the entire castle to hear. Whether you like it or not.”

You assisted the King with the rest of his shirt and his undergarments, freeing him until he only wore the crown on his head. Soon, you were standing completely nude in the royal dining hall in front of a matching King Ryan. 

You smiled.

Anyone could walk in at this moment to see both of you in your full glories. Yet, all you could think of is feeling the King on you, again. 

He wasted no time, crashing his lips on yours and lifting you to sit on the edge of the table. Your hands explored each other, as though you hadn’t touched each other in months, pulling and clawing at each sensitive piece. 

King Ryan found the junction between your neck and jaw with his teeth and firmly sucked, making your eyes roll to the back of your head with pleasure. You gripped the hair just below his crown, nudging the heavy adornment on his head. He stopped and reached for the jewel, intending to take it off. However, you grabbed his wrist before he could finish. 

“Leave it on,” you panted, breathless. 

King Ryan smirked and lowered his hand, grabbing your wrist in return to pin it to the table. He continued his work on your neck, ensuring you were covered in visible affections. You groaned as he spouted his dominant profanities. 

“My naughty girl. You couldn’t wait until we were in private; you needed me now.”

You gripped his shoulder with your free hand in an effort to gain any purchase on his body, yet he pinned the roaming hand just as quickly as it found its destination. 

“How badly do you need it?” he growled into your neck pushing your palms into the table. 

You dragged your eyes open to stare at the ceiling, getting lost in the sounds of his affection. King Ryan moved his hips to press his length against your center. You gasped and jolted, with fail, as you were still pinned to the table. So, instead, you brought your eyes to his, black with lust. 

He raised an eyebrow, awaiting your response. 

“I need you, my King! Fuck me!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's back! I love smutty King Ryan, don't you?


	37. Free of Shame

You sounded primal, intoxicated by his touch and pinned by his gaze. 

A devilish grin spread across his face as he pushed into you once more, pressing his lips onto yours in a deep kiss. He slowly raised your arms above your head, laying them to rest atop his crown. He pulled back from the affection to whisper in your ear, as though you two were suddenly trying to being coy.

“Hold this for me, Warrior” he said, grinning. 

You bit your lip and wrapped your fingers around the heavy adornment. King Ryan continued his attack on your lips and slid his hands down your shoulders, back, and to your rear with painstaking slowness, tickling and sending shivers throughout your body. 

He pulled you forward from the table with one hand, simultaneously pushing himself to meet you. He brought his hand to his lips, collected some of the saliva you shared, and massaged it over the tip of his length. 

All at once, he pressed it into you, making both of you gasp in passion. Your hands tightened around his crown as he moved you up and down slowly, gravity ensuring you took his entirety right away. 

Your voice rang out and rebounded back to you from the lofty ceiling. You weren't hiding anything, now; your shouting confirmation of the filthy woman you had become. 

King Ryan laughed between breaths, the difficulty of holding back his own pleasure to hold you up evident. 

“Don't let it fall, Kitten,” he warned. “I don't want to have to stop to punish you.”

You ignored his Dominant blabbering and took his lips furiously. You wrapped one hand around his neck for better leverage, keeping the other on the crown, and rode his length faster. King Ryan swore in the kiss, and his gasps and moans grew frantic. 

Grinding as you bounced, the King fumbled with you briefly as you fell out of sync. He chuckled and sat on his throne, keeping you perfectly perched on top. 

“My eager girl,” he praised. “ Would you like to continue?”

You shot him a smirk.

“Oh yes, my Lord,” you taunted, draping your arms casually over his shoulders. 

“Go on. Show me how to fuck in public,” he said between his teeth. 

You continued your offense, now with more leverage to make the thrusts harder and deeper. You slammed down with particular roughness and it was King Ryan's turn to cry out with pleasure. You paused for merely a moment as he returned from his state of ecstasy. 

“Do that again,” he commanded. 

You bounced a few more times and crashed your hips against him once more, but he met you with a thrust of his own. You screamed out as he hit your sensitive spot, nearly falling backward from the shock of pain and pleasure. 

King Ryan caught you by the small of your back and continued his assault. Your moans grew louder, and his thrusts deeper, encouraged by each noise. He kissed your chest, leaning you further backward until you rested against the edge of the table. 

He stood up from his chair, once more, holding your hips with a vice-like grip. You held on to his forearms as he took control of the situation, pushing into you with a steady rhythm. With every push, he inched you further onto the table. 

King Ryan’s eyes were transfixed, as though he was seeing you for the first time and you stared in return. His hair was matted to his forehead under his crown with sweat, and his cheeks were flush. You ran your hands up his flexing chest, and, this time, he didn't stop you. 

In one swift motion he lifted your legs straight up, pressing forward to draw his face closer to yours. His crown clattered to the table and, subsequently, the floor as he did, yet his vision of you never broke.

“Are you going to come for me, sweetheart?” he inquired. 

You gasped at the angle, but nodded furiously. King Ryan leaned back, letting your legs fall on either side once more, continuing his perfect pace. 

He let go of one side to grab your breast briefly, moving upward to dip his thumb between your lips. You sucked the digit greedily and held his arm, clenching around him. He groaned and took his thumb away, placing it directly on your clit and turning it in circles. 

This was nearly your undoing, and you screamed again, jolting to steady his deep motion. 

He didn't relent. Instead, he increased the speed of his digit and reduced the depth of his thrusts inside of you. You clawed at his arm while you wrapped your legs around his waist. 

“M-my King,” you stammered. “I want to…”

You couldn’t finish your request before he pressed deeply into your core, again. You moaned and arched your back as you climaxed around King Ryan. Riding out the waves of pleasure, you realized he stopped moving. Instead, his length was still, throbbing inside of you at every quiver your body.

His brow was furrowed, when you finally came to, but you hadn’t yet felt his release. You moved your hips gently, edging him to continue his exertion. He caught the suggestion and returned to the previous pace. 

It was more painful now that your walls were soft and sensitive, but the look in his eyes was too intoxicating to neglect. 

He was focused. 

He’d stare into your eyes for encouragement, which you’d return with satisfied moans, and down at your womanhood. 

He muttered something under his breath you couldn’t fully understand, but you did catch the word “beautiful.”

“Kitten,” he breathed, “Watch me come inside of you.”

You had a rush of clarity at the command. It was quite brash, but oddly appealing; certainly a task fueled by pure lust. 

You blushed as you returned, “My Lord?” 

His eyes darted to yours, unshaking; his voice clear, “I’m going to come. Watch me fill you up.”

You bit your lip and nodded, looking down at his length thrusting in and out of your center. Each one was sloppier than the last, his gasps growing in volume. With a groan, you felt King Ryan come. He pulled his length out partially, and you watched it throb as it released inside of you. 

You moaned softly at the erotic sight. The feeling of being full was incredibly gratifying. 

When you both came down with deep breaths, King Ryan pushed once more inside of you, leaning forward to catch your lips in a soft kiss. 

“My girl,” he whispered as he pulled back. 

He eased out of you gently, thankfully, and bent down to observe his work. He chuckled and kissed your inner thigh, to which you instinctively winced. 

God forbid he were to try for a second round. 

“Come here, my Warrior,” he offered, holding his hands out for you to take. 

You clasped your hands in his and let him raise you from the table. Blinking at the dizzy state, King Ryan sat on his throne, with you across his lap. 

“And what did you think of sex in a public forum? Not as bad as you thought, my dear?” he asked. 

You wrapped your lips around his and offered soft affection. 

“We just got lucky, that’s all,” you answered between kisses.

“Ah, the perks of being a King, I suppose,” he chuckled. 

King Ryan sat up straighter as his Kingly demeanor slowly returned with his strength. 

“Still, we did make quite a mess,” he continued, motioning at the destroyed half of the dining table. “And whom do you think cleans this up?”

His eyes lit up, and you recognized it immediately as another scheme. 

“My Lord…” you began, but it was too late. 

He shouted to the servant, again, who entered promptly. After all, she was standing just outside of the door the entire time. You covered your naked body as best as you could, with King Ryan protecting the areas you missed. 

“Pick up my crown,” he ordered, gruffly. 

Immediately, she ran to the adornment and scooped it up with care, offering it on her knees to King Ryan. 

“No,” he corrected. “Give it to my Warrior. She will put it on me.”

The servant turned and offered it to you, ignoring the fact that both of you were completely nude. 

You looked at King Ryan, who had his eyebrow raised. He motioned with his eyes at the crown and waited, expectedly. You took it in your hands and held it for a moment while he shooed away the girl, leaving you two alone, once more. 

King Ryan kissed your cheek and whispered, “Be a good girl for your King.”

You turned to him, lifting the jeweled adornment up and placing it gingerly atop his head. 

“Now, Kitten,” he continued with a smile. “What would you like to do?”

Aches crept up your body from the awkward position you were sitting, and your eyes grew heavy with each passing minute. 

“Take me to bed, my King,” you suggested. 

King Ryan stood gingerly, barely adjusting as he cradled you in his arms. 

“As you wish,” he answered. 

You could barely keep your eyes open as sleep overwhelmed your body. So, King Ryan walked you through the dining hall and to the corridor, utterly nude and without shame.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, more Dom King Ryan.


	38. An Evening Off

You awoke in the middle of the night wrapped in the furs of the King’s bed. Eyes thick with sleep, you rubbed them briefly and assessed your surroundings. The moon shone through an opening of the window to let in minimal amounts of light. 

Turning over, you met the sleeping form of King Ryan. His torso was exposed, even though there was a chill in the air. With the little illumination, you saw deep marks on his shoulders and down his chest. 

Apparently you got more carried away than you originally thought. 

Quietly, you sat up and examined your own aching body. Save for some pristine places, you were absolutely littered with love bites and red marks from King Ryan's firm grip. The marks didn't hurt much when you touched them, though. Satisfied with the state of yourself, you laid back down, extending your arms above your head in a luxurious stretch.

Suddenly, King Ryan's arm wrapped around your exposed torso.

“Awake for more, Warrior?” He slyly inquired. You chuckled nervously.

“I think I need some time to recoup,” you said casually, your head too exhausted for formalities. King Ryan didn't seem to mind the off-hand exchange. 

“I might agree with you,” he finished. “At least for the evening, Warrior. Do not expect this mercy every time.” He smirked and kissed your lips gently, to which you rolled your eyes after his jest. 

King Ryan moved closer, pressing his chest against yours. You winced at the feeling of your sweat-coated bodies touching one another. 

“My King,” you started, leaning backward slightly. 

You needn't finish your request, as the King felt the hygienic affront. 

“I'll have someone draw a bath right away,” he said, moving the furs aside and standing up from the bed. 

He was still nude, albeit relaxed as he walked to the door and speaking to a modest attendant who set off on the task immediately.

He turned around to face you, closing the door as he did. 

“Well?” He inquired. “Are you coming?” He took a few cursory steps toward you while you sat up. 

You put the pieces together without much help. You could protest to having a bath with the King, however, you were tired, and having someone to lay with would be welcomed. 

You snuck out of the furs via his side of the bed and shyly walked to him. He smiled as he looked your body up and down. 

“You look like you had a difficult evening, Warrior,” he coyly said. He cupped the side of your breast and thumbed some of the marks. “Does it hurt?”

You shook your head. “I've felt worse,” you joked. 

King Ryan raised his eyebrow. 

“That sounds like a challenge,” he answered, gathering a cloak from the hook and wrapping it around your frame. He opened the door and allowed you to step through first.  
“Maybe,” you considered. “But a challenge for another day, my Lord.” You looked sympathetically at him and added, “Please.”

He laughed and wrapped his arm around your waist as you walked next door, where the attendant was prepping your soak. He sighed kissed the top of your head.

“Deal.”


	39. Tales in the Tub

The room was mainly empty, save for an oversized bath and some lounges. Alongside one of the tables were large jars and bags filled with flora and bath salts to adorn the tub. 

Although beautiful, King Ryan didn't strike you as the kind of man who would partake in a luxurious soak to banish his stresses. 

Still, you were in need of the water’s healing touch, so you examined the jars carefully. You selected a bag that contained lavender and chamomile flowers and opened the drawstring. It smelled heavenly as you sprinkled the mixture over the water. 

King Ryan appeared behind you, slowly helping you out of your modest cloak, dropping it to the floor unceremoniously. You blushed as you felt his eyes staring at your form once again. 

You watched the petals disburse and breathed in the healing fragrances. His arm wrapped around you, and he kissed your neck softly. 

“Would you like some help in?” He asked sweetly. 

You nodded, and he moved around your side to take your hands, holding them while you stepped over the threshold. You sat down quickly, so you could disappear from his prying eyes. 

King Ryan followed suit, melding into the calm waters to face you. 

The bath was large enough for both of you to fit comfortably. You crossed your legs when King Ryan sat, though, as to avoid any accidental injuries. 

Once settled, he laid his head back against the edge and closed his eyes, so you did the same. You basked in the glory of absolute relaxation long enough that you nearly fell asleep. 

King Ryan's hands up your thighs jostled you from your twilight state. You anticipated he would venture north, but, instead, he slid his hand passed your knee, calf, and held one of your feet. You held the edges of the tub to adjust your balance while he started to massage. 

“Tell me about yourself, Warrior,” he started. 

You let your hands slip from the edges back under the water. You tilted your head quizzically at his odd request. 

“W-what do you mean?” You asked. 

King Ryan chuckled and deepened the motions of his hands. 

“I’d like to know about you: Who you were, what you did before we met,” he suggested. 

You blinked. 

_The steam must be getting to his head._

“Why do you want to know?” You asked, somewhat suspicious. 

He retained his calm demeanor as he pressed on, “Indulge me.” 

_Here goes nothing._

“Well,” you shrugged and began, “I lived in a village south of the woods where the cabin sits. My father sent me there to work off a debt he owed to a bladesmith.”

“Bladesmith?” He asked, surprised. 

“Don't get excited,” you corrected, “I was relegated to cleaning, most of the time.” 

King Ryan moved his motions toward your toes as you continued. 

“The year the debt was repaid, I went back to my family's homestead, and it was…” you stared at the wall beyond the King as you recalled the saddening scene. 

“It was what?” He asked. 

“Gone.” You shook your head and muttered out, “It's not worth going into the details.”

He looked at you sympathetically, but you darted your eyes to avoid his gaze. 

“Afterward,” you sighed, “I returned to the Smith, as I had nowhere else to go. He took pity on me and invited me in his home, provided I work for my keep, obviously.”

“You stayed with him long?” King Ryan asked. 

You shook your head, “Just over two years. The first year I learned all I could from the bladesmith. He had a partner in the village who was a bowyer and fletcher, and he also shared his knowledge. I suppose they thought they were giving alms to an orphan.” 

King Ryan remained quiet and focused on your face the entire duration of the story. 

“I started work on my cabin after the first year. There was no reason for me to stay in the village and nothing for me to inherit from the man, so I was in the process of relocating when you dropped into my world,” you motioned at him after concluding your tale.

King Ryan stared at you for what felt like an eternity. You swirled your fingers around the petals in the water as a distraction to abate meeting his eyes. 

King Ryan let go of your foot and took your hands in his gently. He pulled you close, taking one of his hands away to wrap around your waist and turn you around. You eased back on him and stared at the ceiling as the pair of you said in silence.

“Do you miss it?” He suddenly asked.

“Hm?” You asked, lost in thought. 

“Do you miss the life you had?” He reiterated. 

You pondered it for a moment. Sure, you were enjoying the pleasures of your Stockholm Syndrome, yet you couldn't forget the freeing feeling your cabin in the woods emanated: The sound of the wildlife, the responsibility of your own care, the privacy from the outside world.

You couldn't produce an answer, so you let the silence consume the conversation. King Ryan let out a deep sigh, but didn't offer any condolences; simply content to have you leave that life behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prepare for more adventurous chapters!


	40. Headed to War

You spent most of your remaining time drifting in and out of sleep, cradled in the waters of the oversized tub and in King Ryan's arms. 

He would occasionally trace his fingers up and down your hands or nuzzle into your hair, but otherwise kept silent. 

There was a soft rap on the door that alerted him, yet he kept you in caring embrace. 

“Enter,” he instructed. He always sounded so terse to his staff no matter the hour.

“My Lord,” the man's voice announced in a haste. It was Ramsey. He wasted no time with his agenda.

“Your Highness, Legion forces were spotted outside the Village of Harren’s Cross. We believe they have intentions to attack.”

King Ryan sat up straight, effectively nudging you away, so he could get a better look at Ramsey. 

“How many?” He inquired with a straight face. 

“At least fifty,” Ramsey answered matter-of-factly. “But our watchmen only account for five. They will not be able to hold them off for long.” 

King Ryan stood up instantly and out of the bath, moving to hastily dress himself with a set of clothes that sat in the corner.

As he did, Ramsey's gaze moved to you while you sat in the tub, lingering as he remembered you were in the room. You covered your top half, although you were mostly obscured by the side of the bath. Ramsey smirked. 

Soon enough, King Ryan was dressed and ready to rush out the door without looking back. 

“I want one hundred men ready at dawn. How long will it take to ride there?” The King ordered to his Captain. 

“It's a day's ride with the infantry, Your Highness,” he answered. 

“Send twenty-five of our more capable men out on horseback ahead of time to intercept. At the very least, we can stall them,” King Ryan directed. 

“As for you,” he continued, turning to you. You were almost certain he had forgotten about you. 

“Sir Ramsey will escort you back to my chambers. You can wait for my return.”

King Ryan motioned to Ramsey, “I will collect my sword. Join me immediately.” With that, King Ryan stepped out, swiftly. 

You were left in the room with Ramsey and an uncomfortable air. 

“My Lady,” he said, stepping toward the tub with his hand out. 

“Stop!” You commanded before he could get any closer. “I am perfectly capable of getting out by myself.” 

Ramsey conceded, returning to his previous position and turning away to give you privacy. 

You grumbled under your breath at the situation. You stepped out and hurriedly collected the cloak, securing it around your frame. 

As you did, you eyed up Ramsey. He was dressed in armor, already; his sword strapped to his belt. He obviously anticipated the King's course of action beforehand. You stepped to Ramsey as he blocked the doorway. 

“I don't need an escort, you know,” you complained, pushing him aside rudely. 

You started down the hallway with Ramsey following closely behind. 

“Oh, I know that, Warrior,” he answered. “But the King likes to ensure his most prized possessions are looked after.” 

You stopped in your tracks and turned to Ramsey. You closed the distance and shoved him against the wall. 

“I am NOT his possession,” you growled. 

Ramsey chuckled and brushed you away. 

“That's not what the castle is whispering, Warrior,” he said, stepping around you to continue the path. You furrowed your brow and quickly caught up. 

“What do you mean?” You asked tersely. 

Ramsey stopped and leaned his head to one side. 

“Pardon me, Warrior, but _everyone_ knows,” he said casually with a laugh. “You weren't exactly as silent, earlier.”

You blinked and stammered, “I-.”

“Just because I am-” you paused to search for the proper term as Ramsey raised his eyebrow in interest “ _involved_ with the King, does not mean I am chattel.” 

Ramsey laughed as he walked away, to which you scoffed, but kept up pace. 

“Excuse me, Sir Ramsey,” you seethed, “I can hold my own in more ways than you assume.”

“I'm sure that is true, Warrior,” he agreed. He stopped, suddenly, just before the door to the King's chambers, making you bump into him accidentally. 

“But, as of now,” he continued in a hushed tone, ”you're known for your screams.” 

His grin was wide and smug; it made you bubble with anger. 

With that, Ramsey opened the door and pushed you inside. 

“Well, I best be off,” he sighed and walked off. “I'll make sure to return your beloved King in one piece.”

You gritted your teeth and considered your position with indignation.

_Unacceptable._

Reduced to a sex slave, while King Ryan went off to heroically save a Village. 

_No._

You ran down the hall opposite the direction Ramsey went, toward your chambers. Bottling the rage, you dressed yourself in dark, tactical clothes, complete with tall boots and a cloak. 

You snuck down the rear stairwell, the one meant for servants and rounded the corner to the hidden doorway that lead to the rear courtyard. You darted among the darkness until you reached the structure that held the collection of weapons. 

King Ryan was there, sitting atop his stallion with his gleaming diamond sword, overseeing the weapons’ transfer to the packs on the sides of the horses. Ramsey was close by, barking out orders to the men who he determined were slacking. 

This wasn't yet the full company; it was the smaller group King Ryan ordered to rush to the scene beforehand. 

You waited in a nearby shrub until they were finished loading what they needed. King Ryan ordered the crew to move out, and you counted a full two minutes before you ran to the structure yourself. 

They hadn't packed everything, and you took full advantage of that fact. You collected a hearty bow and two full quivers of arrows. You even opted to fill half of a quiver with the unconventional, certain death arrows. For good measure, you selected a dagger from the wall, strapping it to your thigh. 

_In case things go wrong._

You would never keep up with King Ryan's convoy on foot, so you sprinted the distance to the stables and peered inside. It was still dark, the rest of the infantry would be preparing armor at this time. 

You took the opportunity to select a horse, place a saddle on it clumsily, and strap your effects to the side. Guiding it outside, you hoisted yourself atop the animal with difficulty. 

You hadn't many experiences riding horseback, in fact, the horse seemed as wairy to as you. You patted its thick neck in a calming motion. 

_No time like the present to learn._

You steered the horse in the direction of the departed group and kicked him into motion. 

You were more than a slave of passion, and you were going to prove it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm blown away with all of your support! <3 For the Mad King!


	41. On the Trail

You veered to the right and into the woods as you crossed the threshold of the open, outer castle gate. Royal Guards shouted at you, but you paid them no mind. Besides, you would reach the Village before anyone would catch up to stop you.

Venturing through the woods would slow you down, but it was still faster than trekking the entire distance to Harren's Cross on foot.

You kept a low profile as your horse trotted over and around fallen obscurities. You pointed in the southern direction, toward the Village and made your way. It wouldn't take you long, even with the path redirection, for you recall passing through on your journey to the castle. 

It was a small, agricultural Village, if you remember correctly, so why the Legion would target it has you baffled. Perhaps because of its close locale to the Castle? Yet that wouldn't answer why the Legion was camped with a larger, detectable force. Surely they knew Royal forces would spot such a visible affront. Either way, you focused on keeping your movements minimal and staying hidden.

The wooded area thinned as you drew nearer to the tilled lands. They were bare of any citizens, of course, considering the time of day. You pulled the reins to signal the horse to stop near the edge of the woods. 

You hopped down, wrapping both quivers over your shoulders and across your back in x-pattern. With the bow secured, as well, you peered to gather your bearings. Thankfully, the moon was high and unobscured tonight, so you could see a relatively far distance. 

Beyond the expanse of tilled land, you spotted another grove of trees, presumably where the trail lead to the village center. You scanned the rest of the field before you ran. Confirming the coast clear, you held the bow closely against your chest and sprinted silently to the grove. 

You slid on your hip in the dirt when you overheard the conversation of a group of men. You laid there for a moment to ensure you were undetected. When their conversation continued, you crept slowly through the heavily wooded area, low to the ground toward the group. 

“We know they are camped on the south side of the village,” one voice said when you finally got close enough to overhear. 

You were still a distance away, but you could still make out the Royal colors, which put you at ease. Still, you couldn't risk being spotted yet, lest you be forced away before you could prove your worth, so you hid behind a large tree base and listened. 

“And they haven't made any advances, yet?” A voice you recognized as King Ryan's spoke.   
“No, Your Highness,” the first voice responded. 

“Then why are we waiting? We should wipe them out before they have the chance to organize,” one over-eager voice suggested. 

“Don't be daft,” the voice you recognized as Sir Ramsey, “It would be suicide to face them head on, now.” 

“Agreed,” said the King. “Besides, we don't have a large enough arsenal to attack, even if we do have the element of surprise. The only thing we can do is take shelter in the village for the evening and wait for the rest of the company to arrive as support. What matters now is that we ensure the citizens are protected from any attack.”

The group contemplated other strategies fiddled with their weapons and armor for some time before finally mounting up and continuing on toward the village. You followed cautiously behind, watching the collective disappear into the town. 

When you were sure they weren't turning around, you followed, distancing yourself to favor the east side of the village and staying out of view as best as you could. It was a tricky task, but the cover of night seemed to mask your presence. 

The village itself was modest. It didn't seem rich in any monetary value; there wouldn't be much to loot, in that regard. You worked your way around the outer edges, finding the King's party once more. 

When you reached the opposite side of the village, you were met with more tilled lands, another grove of trees, but no sign of the resistance. Carefully and quickly, you worked your way across the tilled lands, slipping into the protection of the trees, once more.

With no immediate sign of danger, you climbed one of the taller trees, giving you a view of the village and the road leading to it. From this height, you were safely out of the line of sight - and fire - of anyone with ill intentions. 

You straddled the thick branch and leaned against the trunk, the quivers on your back keeping you upright. 

It was a waiting game, now.


	42. The Standoff

Dawn had barely broke when you heard the shuffling of footsteps. You jolted from a slight slumber and balanced forward for a better view. 

Walking along the road was the invading Legion forces, lead by a group of four men. No one had weapons drawn. In fact, the leaders looked calm.

King Ryan and the Royal Forces, however, were tense. As the Legion approached the village, King Ryan, Sir Ramsey, and a few other men walked out to intercept them. Ordering them to halt a number of feet before the tilled lands began; it effectively gave you the perfect view of the confrontation.

There was an eerie silence as both sides considered their next move. 

“Ryan! Ramsey!” The presumed leader called out to the Royal group.

“Wolfe, Ryan is the King, now, and you will address him in the proper manner,” Ramsey ordered. 

“Oh, _pardon_ me,” Wolfe replied with sarcasm. “Greetings Your Grace, the Bless’ed King Ryan,” he finished with a mocking bow and his arm extended. 

_Did they know each other?_

You couldn't see Wolfe’s face, but by judging the look on King Ryan's, it was not a reunion of old friends. 

“Leave now, Wolfe,” King Ryan firmly warned. “There doesn't need to be any bloodshed.”

Wolfe laughed heartily at this, even throwing his head back in an exaggerated manner. 

“‘Doesn’t need to be bloodshed?’” he argued. “And what was the Mad King Ryan doing before? Campaigning the countryside for change?”

King Ryan's lips were pursed in a thin line. 

“Wanted the throne for yourself, eh?” Ramsey prodded. “Pathetic old boy, you are, Wolfe.”

Wolfe straightened and pointed at Ramsey, “This coming from Ryan's little puppet, always waiting to suck from the Royal teet.”

Ramsey lunged at Wolfe, but King Ryan held his arm to keep him from plunging the ill prepared group into war. Some of the Legion soldiers on the front line readied to draw their weapons in response, but watched Ramsey's next move. 

You silently took your bow in hand, scanning the resistance company. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed movement. Snapping your sight to the affront, you could barely spot a man sitting in a tree across the path, bow and arrow in hand. 

_Shit._

You squinted through the foliage. Indeed, he did have his bow drawn in an indeterminate line toward the Royal party. 

_Shit, shit, shit._

You slowly raised your arm and took an arrow from your quiver, doing your best to keep your motions smooth and undetected. You laced it in the bow’s string and held it at the ready.

“You're not going to win, Wolfe, so you might as well give up!” King Ryan shouted. 

The scene was tense. Wolfe and Ramsey had fists clenched while King Ryan glared. You looked back over at the sniper and drew your bow back, pointing at him and taking a few deep breaths.

“No, Ryan,” Wolfe continued angrily, “I'll win when you're dead.”


	43. The Battle

You took aim at the sniper and exhaled, sending your arrow soaring through the trees’ protection and into the sniper’s chest. He jolted, falling like a ragdoll down the height of the tree before crashing into the brush. 

All at once, the fighting began. 

You quickly drew another arrow and looked back to the crowd, the Royal army poured out of the village gate, shouting to meet the resistance. King Ryan was clashing swords with Wolfe with great force, neither really getting the upper hand in the fight. 

King Ryan kicked Wolfe in the chest, causing him to fall back to the crowd of his men. You aimed toward Wolfe and let another arrow fly. Alas, he rolled away, your arrow lodging into the ground. 

All of a sudden, an arrow went whizzing by your head. You turned to the back of the resistance line and saw a few archers taking aim in your direction. Even with your obscured hide out and their poor aim, they made your location; you were no longer safe. 

You wrapped your bow around your frame and slid around the trunk of the tree to act as body armor. Carefully, you made your descent. The archers lost interest by the time you hit the ground. You crouched behind the tree, waiting for an assault. 

When nothing came, you drew another arrow and peeked around. Many of the resistance had already fallen. The archers’ line still held strong, however. 

You took aim at one of the men and fired, hitting him in the leg, from which he reeled in pain. Hiding behind the tree, you laced another, listening for retaliation. Again, hearing none, you rounded the corner and looked for another target. 

A few of the Royal army had broken past and neared the archers’ line. The Legion fighters slashed wildly, screaming out with every swing of their swords. The archers took steps backward, attempting to distance themselves from the chaos for a better shot. 

You picked off one of the soldiers, sending the arrow near an infantry man, who turned in your direction. He barreled toward you bellowing his war cry, a crazed look on his face. 

You stumbled backward, drawing another arrow in a flash. You hadn't gotten the chance to fire before you were dodging his swing. Luckily, he was brutish in force, so you ducked underneath him and let momentum take him further into the forest. 

Your back now to the chaos, you scrambled to get on your feet and face your assailant, but he was quicker than you anticipated. He swung again, so you rolled to the side to avoid death. 

The brute lunged at you. You let go of your bow to brace yourself for a brawl. You put your arms in front of your face just as he crashed against you, his fist connecting with your side. You coughed and lodged your knee between the both of you, pushing back on him to gain some leverage as he struggled to get his hands around you. 

He wrestled with one of your arms, while you reached for your dagger. Unsheathing it, you stabbed him quickly in the side repeatedly. He bellowed at the pain, but slammed his fist against your cheek a few times. You released the knife and he took possession.

The man brought the dagger down, just in front of your face, but you were ready, holding his hands to slow the descent. You used all of the strength you could muster to resist, yet the knife made its way closer in your vision. Your hands shook against his strength, fighting with a slowly breaking resolve.

Suddenly, the man was off of you, flying backward and to the ground with a thud. Someone appeared above you, clouding your view as they stepped over to address your assailant. 

The brute gurgled his last breaths as your rescuer plunged his sword deep into his chest. You sat up, eyes darting between the dying man and your rescuer. 

The Mad King Ryan.


	44. Savior

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know about you, but the angry, Mad King always makes me smile a devilish grin.

King Ryan's armor was smeared in blood; his face drenched with sweat. His eyes were black with rage, and, for the first time since you met, you were afraid of him. 

He marched to you, bending down to grab you by your outer cloak and yanking you to your feet forcefully with one hand. You held on to his forearm for balance as he manhandled you. 

“What are you doing here?!” He shouted. 

You shivered and looked down at his sword glistening with blood. His knuckles were white as he gripped his weapon tightly. 

His hand dropped your cloak to wrap around your throat and call your attention back to his face.

“Answer me!” He boomed amidst the chaos. 

You stumbled to come up with a convincing answer. 

“I-” you stammered. “I came to help.”

_Real smooth, Robin Hood._

Your eyes were wide as you watched his anger grow.

“You should have stayed where I told you!” He bellowed. 

King Ryan released your throat and walked around you, shoving you backward in the process. You stumbled and fell to the ground, defeated. Quickly, you got up to protest, but were silenced by the tip of his sword in your direction. 

“I will deal with you, soon enough.”


	45. Confrontation

King Ryan was back in the fray, reducing many of the Legion forces in his path to bloodied piles. You glared and mumbled a string of profanities under your breath, now that his back was turned.

You looked down at the twisted corpse near your feet with a grimace. Even with your pride broken, you couldn't risk getting caught in more hand-to-hand combat. 

Tail between your legs, you ascended to the safety of the tree, once more. You waited out the battle, keeping close eye on King Ryan and occasionally sniping a rival soldier. 

He didn't need much protection, truthfully. He maneuvered easily around the chaos, the Legion's battle experience clearly inferior to his own. 

The noise died down as the last of the resistance soldiers either fell or had ran off to safety. You watched the Royal company take inventory, lead by Ramsey. He, too, was covered in grime from a lengthy fight. 

You sighed and relaxed, leaning back against the tree and closing your eyes. It certainly wasn't your first fight, but it was your first war. Your nerves were rattled and all you wanted was something cool to drink. 

However, there were a number of Royal soldiers patrolling the area, and you were content to hide like a cat in this tree. You leaned forward to get a better view, not really worried about keeping your location a secret. 

One of the soldiers heard your rustling and looked up from his body collecting duties. The brave soul turned and ran back to the group in fear you were another Legion fighter. 

He returned with a party, and they looked in fascination at your high perch. Some mumbled to each other, making the other chuckle; your anger growing. 

Ramsey appeared among the group and barked orders to continue the cleanup. He crossed his arms in front of his chest and looked up at you. 

“Going to stay up there forever?” He called out smugly. 

You rolled your eyes at his quip and started your descent now that the coast was clear. It took you some navigating, but, eventually, you made it to the ground. 

“Welcome back, Warrior,” he said with a smirk. “And how did you fare with your first big girl battle? Did you have fun?” 

You narrowed your eyes and debated whether it was even worth a response. 

“Ouch,” he continued before you could decide. “Looks like it was a bit rougher than even King Ryan likes it. Were you _damaged_?” 

He reached to inspect your face, but you slapped his hand away before he could reach you. 

“Fuck off,” you retorted.

Ramsey glared in return and opened his mouth to respond to the insult, but decided against it. Instead, he drew his lips in a thin line and stepped aside. 

“I don't have time for this, shit,” he murmured. “Your _Master_ is looking for you; let's go.”

You huffed and walked behind him like a moody child, your arms crossed in defiance. Many of the corpses were stacked on wagons, their armor and swords piled on another. You stepped around a number of arrows lodged in the ground. 

You made your way through the village where groups of the Royal company were either working or eating, the villagers of Harren's Cross shuffling to accommodate their saviors. 

You entered a larger abode near the center of the village. Once in, you saw it was furnished like a large dining hall, likely meant for communal gatherings. The candles were lit, giving minimal clarity to the map of the surrounding area laid out on the broad table. 

At the end of the table sat King Ryan. He was already cleaned from his bloody battle, clad in a thin shirt. His eyes looked exhausted, but his posture was alert, crown atop his head solidifying his regal status. 

Ramsey stood along the wall once you were accounted for. You stopped before the King a respectable distance, since you were in the presence of others. Also, because you were still upset.

King Ryan's jaw was tense and there was a palpable uneasiness in the room. You were actually nervous while you waited for him to say something. 

“What were you thinking?” He finally asked. 

You stood in the silence, but kept your eye contact. 

“Do you realize how much danger you put yourself in? My men? This entire negotiation?” he continued. 

You took a breath and swallowed, keeping a calm demeanor. The last thing you wanted to do was escalate the situation. 

“Like I said before, I was helping you,” you responded. 

Ramsey chuckled to which you pursed your lips to keep quiet.

King Ryan fumed, “Helping?! You were nearly killed! Or did you forget about that man who almost cut your head off.”

You nodded gently growing more defensive with every reaction. 

“I realize you saved me, there,” you continued in increasing volume. “What _you_ don't remember is that I saved you, too.”

King Ryan and Ramsey both furrowed their brows in confusion. 

“You would have been killed by that archer if I hadn't been there,” you continued. 

King Ryan took a deep breath. “This is a very delicate situation,” he said, pointing to the map on the table. “You are not trained in this type of combat; you could be seriously injured, or worse.” 

“Best to leave the fighting to the professionals,” Ramsey chimed in.

Embarrassed and angered, you defended your actions. 

“I may not be _trained_ like either of you, but I am smart enough to recognize when you're going to be assassinated.” 

King Ryan shook his head, ignoring your challenge. 

“This is not your fight, Warrior, and it is not your place to tag along,” he warned, gravely. 

You could feel your face flush. His insult was direct, obvious, and deeply disheartening. 

“You'd rather keep me locked away to fuck?” You dared the King. 

King Ryan's face remained unchanged, so you looked to Ramsey, who was smirking. 

_Bastard._

“Warrior-” King Ryan started, struggling to find words. 

He rubbed his forehead deeply with one hand, trying to send away a creeping headache. He sighed once more and finally put together a response. 

“Let's discuss this after we've returned to the castle. Ramsey and I have some things to go over before we depart. Ramsey-” 

He motioned to his right hand, who walked to you briskly, gripping your arm roughly and yanking you out of the room. Ramsey pushed the door open, ushered you out swiftly, and closed the door behind. 

Shame and sadness washed over you. Tears welled in your eyes at the realization of your true place. 

Defeated, you leaned against the door that had just closed you out, and you cried.


	46. Ultimatum

It was a long and lonely trek back to the castle. You considered running off back to your cabin, but the large, Royal Army presence and close eye Ramsey kept on you after his meeting with the King halted your plans. That, and you were hungry, tired, and in desperate need of a bath, all amenities located in King Ryan's castle. 

So, with a defeated heart, you rode on a cart carrying weapons. You brought your knees to your chest and hugged them in an effort to still the rattling. You calmed down earlier, your tears the result of an outrageously emotional few days coupled with the lack of sleep. Needless to say, you were ready for a break. 

Just as you thought you were going to have some peace and quiet, Ramsey galloped beside you. 

“Well, Warrior,” he started, “Ready to return to your pampered life?” You remained silent, letting your eyes glaze over as you stared at the slowly passing road. 

He didn't relent his attack, “Hopefully your face heals nicely, or else the King might have to spend the rest of his days staring at the back of your head.” 

You grimaced at the disgusting remark and shot him a glare. “Don’t you have boots to lick?” You retorted. 

He interjected at your anger, “Good to see that your recent revelation didn’t completely kill your wit.”

You didn’t respond, letting your gaze fall to the ground, once more, as you recalled the infuriating scene. Ramsey was right. Now, you undoubtedly knew your place with the King. Ramsey eventually lost interest and rode off, surely finding someone else to offend. 

The convoy made it through the castle walls, and, before the group diverted to the stables and armory, you dismounted your ride and trudged to the castle. You slunk through the side door, walking down the corridor to your personal chambers. Closing the door behind you, you immediately disrobed, throwing your clothes and shoes in a disheveled fashion. 

Standing in front of the full length mirror, you assessed your battered body. Your eye was puffy and a dark shade of purple as a bruise set in. You had minor scratches and bruises on your cheeks. Your had cuts on your arms, with bruises adorning your forearms thanks to your altercation. 

It wasn’t pretty. 

You poured the pitcher of water into the basin and wet the cloth lying alongside. Washing over your arms, you made sure to clean the deeper scratches more thoroughly, also ghosting the cloth over your eye, carefully. It was more painful than you had expected, so you finished the rest of your body, instead. 

The grime and blood successfully gone, you headed straight for the bed, sleep overtaking every other feeling you had. You peeled back the blanket and slid under, pulling it over your ear protectively. Without much thought, the tears started flowing, a compilation of emotions expelled through soft sobs. Soon enough, your eyes drifted closed and you gave into sleep. 

-  
You woke to a knock on the door. Although startled, you didn’t move, almost certain it was the King, and you weren’t about to give him permission to enter. 

“My Lady,” a woman’s voice called. 

It was the caretaker. 

She barged in, but stood across the room as she directed, “The King would like to see you in the Throne Room immediately.” She exited the room and closed the door behind her.

You sighed deeply, already detesting the upcoming argument. Knowing she would come searching again if you didn’t move, you sat up, giving yourself time to adjust before swinging out of bed. 

You found clean clothes in the wardrobe and threw them on, certainly nothing formal enough for the Throne Room, but you didn’t care. You brushed through your hair and re-tied it in a ribbon, not even bothering to look in the full length mirror before leaving the room. 

The caretaker was waiting at the end of the hall, and, once she spotted you, walked some distance in front in the direction of the Throne Room. You followed, using all of your energy to hold your head up because you'd be damned if you'd look upset before the King. 

The caretaker stopped before the doors and opened them with grandeur. You waited a moment, took a deep breath, and stepped over the threshold, entering the same way the citizens entered before, the doors closing you in.

King Ryan sat on the throne, crown atop his head to complete the facade. He must have gotten sleep, you surmised, as his eyes didn't have such deep circles. He looked on edge, though, worried even as you stepped closer, stopping at the edge of the stone floor. 

You pushed any emotional thoughts out of your mind to avoid embarrassment and stared into his eyes with a glazed over look. You held one hand in the other behind your back and waited for his wrath. He drummed his fingers on the arm of the throne before he broke the silence. 

“Warrior,” he said softly. 

“Yes, Your Highness?” You asked, clearly. You were surprised at his quiet tone, but stuck to formalities. First, because you were the one at fault in his eyes, but mainly because you were upset and wanted to mock his influence with overuse of his titles. 

“Have you eaten? How are your wounds? Are you in pain?” He pried with concern in his voice. 

“I am fine, Your Highness, thank you,” you said coldly. You sounded terse and offensive, but you wanted to solidify your anger. “Will you be needing my services this evening?” 

King Ryan took a deep breath and rubbed his face, frustrated. You had never seen him lack fight, and, for an instant, you were sorry you said it. 

“Warrior I don't want to see you hurt,” he said loudly and changing the subject. “I--” he fumbled with his words as he sat forward in his throne. 

You swallowed thickly and silently reminded yourself of the earlier interaction at Harren's Cross. 

“Your Grace,” you began. “You made me a part of this war the minute you brought me to this castle. You cannot feel affection for me and, at the same time, keep me arm's length from the violence." Your hands shook, but you kept a strong stare. 

"Either take me as your partner or fuck me like your whore. It's your choice, my King.” 

You exaggerated a curtsey as he sat, dumbstruck, searching for a response. Before he could, however, you turned on your heel and marched out of the room, slamming the doors behind you.


End file.
